Of Extras and Unexpected Consequences
by stickdonkey
Summary: My take on the 10th walker idea which delves into the consequences such an addition would have on the story-line and how those consequences might compound to cause cataclysmic changes to the fate of the world. Especially when she is making changes both actively and inactively and working from the wrong version of how events took place. Not a legomance! AU bookverse. Please R&R.
1. PortaJohn to Middle Earth

**Hi all! This was just an idea I had because I was a little bored and scrolling the LOTR section and saw that there were a lot of 10****th**** walker fanfics. I read a couple of them, and was a little disappointed that no one seemed to take the idea that the 10****th**** walker even being there would cause changes to the story line, even if they did absolutely nothing. Yay butterfly effects!**

**Now admittedly, I only read a few and some of those I didn't read very far (Sue's make me cringe) so there may be another of these out there. I hope to do a good job on this story and hope you enjoy it.**

**Disclaimer: I own none of the characters of LOTR; they were created by Tolkien and are only being borrowed by me. I will return them when I'm done . . . in nearly the same condition I found them in. **

**oooOOO000OOOooo**

"Y'all go on ahead," Emily said separating herself from the group. "I need to take care of something real quick. I'll meet you by the turkey legs."

Her friend, Nicole, stopped and turned. The sight of Nicole in a dress was something Emily just couldn't wrap her head around. Nicole was a tomboy through and through. In fact, Emily hadn't even known that she owned a dress until she had insisted that Emily change that morning before they left, because—apparently—it is impossible to go to a renaissance festival in normal clothing.

Her counter argument had been that with all the anachronisms _already_ present at a Renaissance fair (one of which being the over-the-clothes corset currently being sported by Nicole) her jeans would hardly make any difference. Needless to say, that line of argument had accomplished nothing. So now, here she was in the middle of summer in a three-quarter length dress with pants under it to cover the rest of her legs.

"I can help you if you want," Nicole offered. "That way it won't take as long."

"No," Emily assured her, "this is something I need to do alone." She nudged her head towards a nearby blue box for emphasis.

"Oh," Nicole breathed as she figured out what the errand was. "I get it. See you in a bit."

Emily nodded and took a deep breath, steeling herself for the task ahead: using a port-a-john. She stepped inside, and closed the door. It was surprising how much sound that blue plastic blocked out. _Maybe this won't be that bad,_ she thought as she attempted to find a position that kept her free from touching anything.

Once she was finished, she made sure that she was presentable, then reached for the hand-sanitizer on the wall and was disgusted to find that it was empty. She sighed. _Just my luck, I would pick the one without sanitizer. Oh well, I can just check another one._ She closed her eyes against the light she knew was to follow and pushed the door open. She expected to hear the door slam shut behind her, but it didn't.

Opening her eyes, she turned around and saw that the door was still slightly ajar; the lock wasn't in place and was keeping it from closing properly. She leaned forward, fixed the latch and pushed it closed disliking the idea of leaving it open.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and assumed that it was someone wanting their turn. "You might want to use a different one," she said without turning around. "This one is out of toilet paper and hand sanitizer."

"Pardon me?" A male voice replied.

"Not that I suppose you would particularly care," she said upon realizing that it was a man. From what she had heard, they didn't really care about that kind of thing.

"What are you speaking of?" the same voice asked.

_Great, _she thought, _one of those freaks that think this is actually the Renaissance. I'll bet he's even carrying a sword. _"The facilities are lacking in the realm of sanitation," she said trying to match his speech. "Or perhaps you are calling it a privy?" She turned to face him and saw that she was right. He was in costume, and he did have a sword. But from the look of it, he wore his costume more than just to the fair. It was faded, dirty and worn. She noticed that he had a tear near the shoulder on the sleeve. But it was one of the best costumes she had seen, the fabric even appeared to be hand woven.

"Nice costume," she complimented.

He looked at her like she had lost her mind. She met his grey eyes and wondered at the age she saw in them. Actually, even though he had looked young at first, the more she looked the stranger him being in costume seemed. She could see a few grey strands in with his dark hair. His gaze was actually making her uncomfortable. It seemed like he was trying to see into her soul.

"Well . . . I just get out of your way then," she said turning to walk off in the direction her friends had gone, only to realize that she was in a different place. All the booths and venders were gone. And all the people for that matter and for some reason the colors seemed brighter. She turned back to face the man that she had just been speaking to, panic beginning to well within her. Once she did, she noticed that the blue box was gone as well. All that was left was her and the strange man, alone in the middle of a forest.

"What happened?" she asked as though he would have the answer. "Where am I? How did I get here?"

"I was hoping you would be able to enlighten us in regards to that," she heard a different male voice say. She turned again, panic well and truly taking over. Behind the first man were eight more men and boys. The man who spoke was _way _too old to be dressing up.

"If I knew, I wouldn't've asked," she replied, her fear causing her natural sarcasm to flair.

"I feared that might be the case," the old man sighed. "Let us begin with a simple question; what is your name?"

"Emily," she answered, too confused to ask his name as politeness dictated.

"Emily," he said as though testing the name. "It is an odd name, how did you come by it?"

"It's what my parents chose to call me," she replied questioning the old man's sanity. His lips twitched in a smile as though he knew what she had thought, but didn't want to acknowledge it.

"I suppose that is how we have all acquired our names," he finally said. "Do you know how you came to be here?"

"I already said I don't," she said exasperatedly. If she had doubted his sanity before, she now knew that he was senile. "All I know is that one minute I was using the restroom at a Renaissance fair. When I left I was here. Where is here anyway?"

"Renaissance fair?" she heard one of the children ask. "What is a Renaissance fair?"

At the same time the old man said, "I think we should stop for our noon meal and sort this out." Four of the children apparently agreed with this statement and set about preparing a fire to cook. She wondered that they used flint rather than matches and watched in fascination as they started the fire.

"As to where here is," the old man said with a gentle smile, "I suppose I should be the first to welcome you to Middle Earth, Emily."

**oooOOO000OOOooo**

Some time later, after they had eaten and continued the relentless and circuitous question-answer game they had been playing, Emily realized that they were all nuts. Slowly they had all introduced themselves and she realized that she must have fallen in with a RPG group. They had all given names straight out of Lord of the Rings. The old man—Gandalf—had explained that they were traveling and were a good deal away from anything, but it had been a while since he had spoken. Instead he had been staring into the dying fire and muttering to himself in a language that Emily couldn't understand.

Finally, he heaved a sigh and turned to face her looking older than he had moments before. "I can see no other solution to our current situation. You must accompany us on our journey, for now," Gandalf said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"Impossible," one of the men—Boromir—said incredulously. "You cannot seriously be considering allowing her to travel with us, Gandalf. It is folly."

"I agree with the man," the man calling himself Gimli added. "She could be an agent of Sauron."

"You would dare to say that?" the one calling himself Legolas demanded. "A member of my kindred, a spy? I think not!"

His kindred? What the hell was he talking about? He claimed to be an elf and she was most assuredly human the last time she had checked. "What do you mean 'your kindred'?" she asked.

But her question was ignored because at the same time both Boromir and Gimli had retorted angrily. "Is it impossible that an elf work with the Dark Lord?" Boromir asked as Gimli snorted, "That fact only increases my suspicion of her."

"Enough!" Gandalf said, his voice filled with power enough that even Emily felt herself cowering. "I will hear no more on the matter. Elrond appointed me to guide you and my heart tells me that she has a part to play in this before the end. She will travel with us, _but _we will keep the nature of our quest a secret for now." He looked directly at one of the children—hobbits—as he said that last line and Emily noticed that the hobbit fidgeted uncomfortably under his stare.

"I really don't have to," Emily said quietly. "I can tell that they don't want me to come with y'all. I don't want to cause problems." She was halfway hoping that they would agree that it was best for her to leave, they seemed like they were at least a half bubble off plumb and she didn't want to be there when the crazy got the best of them.

"I am afraid that you do, my dear," Gandalf said gently. "It is the only way that I can, perhaps, curtail the damage that you are going to do here." She opened her mouth to protest, but he continued talking. "It is apparent to me that you do not belong in this time. From whence you came, I am unsure. I am also unsure _why_ you are here, but I am certain that you must not be allowed to wander freely in our world for fear of you destroying it."

"but—" she began only to be cut off by the soft voice of Aragorn.

"I feel that, for now, we must trust the instincts of Gandalf," he gave her an apologetic smile. "He is seldom wrong. Besides, it is unwise for you to wander alone in such dangerous country without an escort."

She sighed, which they took as the sign of agreement that it was. She knew they were right; she was lost and had no way of getting un-lost other than following them. _Oh joy,_ she thought sarcastically. _Now I get to wander aimlessly in the woods with a bunch of lunatics. This sounds like a __great__ plan . . . not. _

Little did she know that they were all thinking similar things about her. Boromir, in particular did not relish the idea of spending time in the presence of a strange female elf, spy or not. Having the one was bad enough. That was one point that he and the dwarf could agree on. There was no love lost between the man of Gondor and the elves, though he had no real experience with them other than the council of Elrond, there were stories. . . strange tales about the powers of the elves, especially she-elves. This quest was rapidly becoming more trying.

**oooOOO000OOOooo**

**There we go y'all, first chapter. What do you think? Loved it? Hated it? Think I need to continue? Delete it? Let me know.**

**(And to anyone who might be here from my Vk fic, I promise that I will keep updating that one too, but this was actually getting in the way.)**

**Also, before it even happens, I know that there are some people out there who scroll the archives with the express intent of finding stories with OC's and harassing the authors. I won't ask that no one tell me that I have created a Sue (though I don't believe I have). All I will ask is that if you feel that Emily **_**is**_** a Sue, tell me why so that I can improve her character and remedy the problem. Or, what the hell, flame away :) it is not fair of me to only ask for people who like it to review and often the negative review are some of the most helpful.**

**Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it and I hope to hear your opinions soon,**

**Stickdonkeys**


	2. Walking is good exercise, right?

**Disclaimer: I own nothing and make no claim to.**

**oooOOO000OOOooo**

Chapter 2: Walking is good exercise, right?

Walking. That seemed to be all that her life consisted of, or at the very least all that the "quest" did. She had considered herself relatively fit, but it hadn't even been a day yet and she was already tired, sore and ready for them to be done with this game.

But they, like the wilderness they were currently traveling in, showed no signs of letting up anytime soon. Even the brief chats that she had been able to have with various members of the group—mostly hobbits—hadn't broken the monotony of walking in an area devoid of all touches of human civilization. But this could have been due to the fact that just when the conversation was starting to get rolling, Gandalf would interrupt them saying, "I think you have said enough about that for now, Emily my dear."

After the fourth time it happened, Emily realized that he didn't seem to like her talking about what things were like where she was from, or anything that she knew anything at all about for that matter. _Maybe he doesn't want me here either,_ she thought bitterly. The thought that she was traveling with people who wanted nothing to do with her was hard, even if she didn't want to be there in the first place, not being liked or even wanted made her hate being there. But she swallowed her pain for now, it wasn't like she could do anything about it anyway.

She hadn't said a word since the last time Gandalf had admonished her, but that didn't mean that the others hadn't talked to her. Merry and Pippin had been particularly friendly.

"Lord Elrond didn't want to let me come," Pippin was saying. Ever since he realized that she wasn't going to talk anymore he had begun a monologue to fill the silence. "But he was eventually persuaded to let me. I'm glad he was, but I know that _some _people wish he had not have been. I just wish they would accept the fact that he was."

"That's something we have in common," she said with a sad smile. "No one wants me here either. But I know that we're both here for a reason. Otherwise we wouldn't be here, right?"

Gandalf felt remorse at the desolation in her voice. He had not meant to make her feel that she was unwelcome, because she was correct in her assumption that her presence had a purpose. However, he was unsure as to what that purpose was. What he was sure of was that he needed to attempt to prevent her from telling the others thing that might result in problems for them all. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that a different approach might be more appropriate.

Boromir, too, thought a different approach might be necessary, but his complaint was not in Gandalf's handling of the addition to their group, but in her affect on the level of noise the group made. He found the incessant sounds emanating from Emily and the hobbits to be grating. He changed his pace to bring him alongside Aragorn, who nodded to acknowledge his presence.

He looked at the other man and leaned in conspiratorially before he quietly said, "here were are, on a quest that requires stealth and they treat it as it were merely a pleasure stroll." He expected that the other man would agree and commiserate with him on the frivolous nature of hobbits and she-elves. His hopes were dashed when Aragorn laughed.

"You speak as though it is a bad thing," Aragorn replied. "I, for one, find their chatter lightens my heart. And there is no harm in letting them talk."

Boromir looked at him incredulously before conceding bitterly. "Perhaps I have erred in my interpretation," he said before allowing space to come between them once more.

The younger man's sullen attitude worried Aragorn, but he assumed that it would pass. Especially as Emily remained with the company and caused them no harm. Eventually Boromir would become accustomed to her presence. They process would be expedited if she could prove useful. He dropped back to join her and the hobbits to attempt to ascertain how she could be of aid.

Once there was a brief lull in the conversation, he asked, "Emily, what skills do you possess? I apologize if I appear indecorous. I am attempting to redistribute the labors since we are now ten rather than nine and need to know what you are capable of."

"Well," she said slowly attempting to think which of the things she could do might be useful. "I know how to fish," she finally said.

"Alas, we have no time for fishing," Aragorn replied. "Is there naught else?"

"I can cook," she suggested brightly. At an indignant noise from Sam she backpedaled. "Or not."

Aragorn laughed. "Calm yourself, Master Gamgee," he said. "None will attempt to take your task from you." Sam nodded, secretly relieved. He didn't entirely trust her not to poison them all.

Thinking harder about her abilities, Emily finally gave another option from sheer desperation. "I can sew," she finally said, hoping that this skill was met with approval. For some reason, she knew it was crucial that this man approve of her.

"Ah," he said with a smile, "that is a useful skill. While we can all stitch holes, the practiced hand of a woman would be most welcome!"

She forced a smile and nodded. She hadn't said anything about "practiced." Yeah, she could sew. Simple things. Buttons, small tears, things like that. But she wasn't sure that she could be classified as a "practiced" hand here. She sincerely hoped they didn't have anything too difficult they wanted her to do.

Out of the corner of her eye she though she saw Legolas trying not to laugh at her expression, but when she turned her head to look at him properly, his face showed no sign of suppressed laughter.

**oooOOO000OOOooo**

The sun was beginning to near the horizon when they reached a group of rocks jutting from the ground. Apparently it looked like a good place to make camp, since without anyone saying anything everyone stopped walking and started gathering things to make dinner and set up camp for the night. Emily was surprised that this was still going on. She figured that they would have gone home by now. For the first time, the thought crossed her mind that maybe they weren't role playing, perhaps she had actually gotten transported into their time, or dimension or wherever it was they existed.

Emily felt a little lost and useless as she watched what seemed to be a well rehearsed ritual. She couldn't see anywhere that she could help, partially because she didn't know what needed to be done. She saw Aragorn a few feet away. He had easily been the most welcoming of the group in the "adult" category so she decided to ask his advice.

"What can I do to help?" she asked. "I feel stupid just standing around watching y'all work."

He gazed at her a moment before he finally discerned what it was that she had asked. He smiled at her and then said, "Tomorrow I will find a task suited to you. For tonight allow us to ready the camp for the night."

She snorted un-daintily as she read between the lines. "So what you're basically telling me is that there is nothing I can do to help because I'm a woman?"

He seemed shocked by both her icy tone and the words themselves. While it was true that he was unsure as to what she could do to help and that she was a woman—which made him wonder _why _she felt she _had_ to aid them—the two were unrelated. He was still trying to figure out how to best fit her into the work regime in a way that would not cause pandemonium if she was to disappear as suddenly as she appeared.

"If you feel the need to be of use so strongly," said a quiet voice, "you are welcome to come with me while I search for water. I would appreciate the company and help carrying the full water skins." She turned to see Legolas surveying her.

She thought about it for a moment. She wasn't sure about going off into the woods with a strange man, but she had already been traveling with him all day and no one had attempted to accost her in any way. _Besides, _she thought looking him over again, _I would probably be able to take him in a fight._ She nodded and moved over to take a few of the nearly empty water skins from him.

Once her back was to him Aragorn made eye-contact with Legolas and sent him a wordless "thank you." Give him a hoard of rampaging orcs over an angry woman any day. Not for the first time, he was glad that Arwen had been alive long enough that she tended to be more levelheaded than most mortal women. He wasn't sure what he would do if she was given to the hysterics that some women tend to experience. As he watched the pair walk into the woods, he only hoped that Legolas knew what he was doing.

Little did Aragorn know, Legolas was hoping the same thing. He had been wanting to speak with the strange woman since she had appeared that morning, but it had never seemed like the appropriate time. He wanted to know how she had come to be there, and why she had seemed so surprised to realize she was an elf. However, he remembered her reaction when Gandalf had asked the first question. Thinking she might be more willing to answer questions if they came up more naturally in conversation than if they seemed like an interrogation and knowing that Gandalf would interrupt if they stayed with the group he had offered to allow her to accompany him.

"How are you enjoying your travels so far, Lady Emily?" he asked. Though unsure of her status, he felt that since he was trying to question her it would serve him best to be polite.

"It's beautiful," she said. "But it's odd to have traveled so far and not see any sign of people other than us. And it's just Emily, there's no need to call me 'Lady'."

"Is that not how it is where you are from?" he asked genuinely curious. "Are settlements not separated from one another? And do you not use titles to address others?"

"No," she said with a wistful smile. "Or at least not where I live . . . lived? Either way, where I'm from you can go for miles and never see any land unchanged in some way by humans. Actually I don't know that I ever have. And no, in my country we don't use titles like 'lord' or 'lady'."

"That is a shame," he said. She glanced at his expression and saw the he truly meant what he said. "Humans really are rather destructive things. They have caused so much that was good in this world to be lost forever." His face was filled with sadness and she watched uncomfortably, unsure if she had caused his change in mood.

As suddenly as it had come on, his melancholy shifted back to curiosity and he asked, "If you do not use titles, how do you show respect to others when you wish to?"

Confused by his sudden mood swing, it took Emily a few moments to respond. "Generally, to show respect to a woman you either address her as 'Miss' if she is unmarried or 'Missis' if she is married. A man is usually addressed as 'mister.'"

"It feels wrong to simply call you Emily," Legolas said. "Which of those two would I use to address you?"

She laughed as she realized that he was basically asking if she was married, even if he didn't think of it that way. "'Miss' would be the appropriate choice to use for me, if you feel like you have to," she replied.

"I feel I must, Miss Emily," Legolas said. "This stream will serve our needs." He knelt down by the bank and emptied the skins of the water they contained before he rinsed them and began the refilling process. Emily crouched beside him and copied his actions.

_I hope this water is safe to drink,_ she thought before going back to what she was doing.

After a few seconds of silence, she decided she would ask him the question that had been burning in her mind all day. "Legolas, can I ask you something?" she asked. He nodded and turned to look at her, his hands continuing their task without observation.

"Of course you may, Miss Emily," he replied.

"Earlier today you called me one of you kindred," she said. "What did you mean by that?"

"I would think it is obvious," he replied, his tone kind even if his words were not particularly. "You are of elf-kind. I have been intending to ask you why you seemed surprised by my words."

"Easy," she answered. "This morning when I woke up and headed to the Renaissance fair with my friends I was human. How am I now an elf? That's impossible."

"Impossible or not," Legolas replied slightly irritated by her doubt, "you are most assuredly an elf. I assure you that I am quite capable of recognizing one of my kin."

**ooOO88OOoo**

**AN: thank you to everyone who read this chapter. I would greatly appreciate it if you would leave your opinion on the story. Again thank you for reading it. And a special thanks to ****Glory Bee ****for reviewing and adding this story to your alerts, it was what convinced me to write this next chapter.**


	3. Let Meditating Wizards Lie

**ooOO88OOoo**

Back at camp, Gandalf was searching for Emily. There were a few things he desperately needed to discuss with her. First he had spoken with the hobbits, but none of them seemed to know her whereabouts. Just as he was about to ask Boromir and Gimli, Aragorn strode out of the woods.

"Ah, Aragorn," Gandalf said conversationally, not truly expecting the man to know where she had gotten to, "do you, by chance, know where I might find Emily?"

To Gandalf's surprise Aragorn nodded. "She and Legolas left to collect fresh water," Aragorn said. "They should return shortly."

"Confound it all!" Gandalf exclaimed his eyebrows and beard bristling. "I wished to speak with her."

Aragorn raised an eyebrow, he had known that the wizard was easily riled, but he couldn't understand why _this _had upset him. It seemed like an eloquent solution to Aragorn. I had kept Emily out of the way and had allowed her to help.

As quickly as it had come, Gandalf's anger passed and he sighed once again looking like nothing more than a weary old man. "I suppose, if any of us are to be trusted around her, Legolas would be safer to trust her with than a hobbit," Gandalf said. "He is nowhere near as foolish as hobbits are wont to be."

"You speak as though you are not fond of hobbits," Aragorn said with a smile. "Though we all know the opposite is true."

"I am fond of them," Gandalf replied with a sigh, "though it would be appreciated if they better understood the gravity of the quest."

Aragorn looked at the hobbits laughing together as Sam prepared the fire to cook dinner. He watched as Merry snuck up behind Pippin and dangled something into his hair before dropping it and causing Pippin to panic and scatter the vegetables Sam had been arranging to chop. Aragorn contained his laugh, but not his smile as Frodo and Merry laughed at the joke while Sam grumbled and Pippin apologized and helped him to rearrange the vegetables.

"No," Aragorn said. "It is better this way. If they knew, they would be paralyzed with fear. You, yourself, argued with Elrond that they would be useful before the end if as nothing more that morale improvement as the road grows dark."

"And they shall," Gandalf reaffirmed. "However, at this moment in time, with the dilemma of how to prevent Emily from corrupting our world, and potentially hers, their levity is more of a burden than a boon. "

"Does she truly pose such a risk?" Aragorn asked. He had been curious about Gandalf's words but he had yet to find the appropriate time to ask. "She is but a woman, and a small one at that."

Gandalf sighed again. "In truth, I am not certain. Her reaction to our names suggests to me that she may know something of us and our quest. If this if so, she may reveal something in passing that was best left unsaid and change the course of events. Whether this change would be good or ill, I cannot tell."

"I fear you worry much over little," Aragorn said. "But I am no wizard."

"No, you are not," Gandalf laughed. "And perhaps you are correct and these are the baseless worriyings of a suspicious old man, but shall we risk it?"

"No," Aragorn replied sadly. "We dare not." He hated that it seemed they were going to have to keep segregating her. So far she had showed no signs of being a danger. All she had shown was that she was as confused and troubled by this turn of events as they were, if not more so. It seemed like cruelty to him to keep her from befriending the others.

Before either he or Gandalf could say anything else, Legolas and Emily returned from their task and it was apparent from the expressions on both their faces that neither had enjoyed the company of the other. It was a little better hidden in Legolas' fair features, but it was there is you knew what to look for. For while Emily also shared the beauty that the Valar had granted to all elves she had not Legolas' practice in schooling those features into the politely impassive expressions favored by the elves. Her expressions and reactions gave credence to her assurances that she had been human only that morning.

Once Legolas had returned the full water skins he carried to their places, he turned and took Emily's from her and stowed them as well.

"Thank you for your assistance, Miss Emily," he said coolly before bowing slightly and stalking off again into the forest leaving a flabbergasted Emily in his wake.

Emily watched him walk away, anger beginning to replace her confusion at his actions. She had done nothing to deserve the attitude he was giving her. She hadn't done anything to deserve the attitude _any_ of them were giving her. All she had done was . . . well she wasn't sure what she had done, but it wasn't her fault she was with them now. That was the old man's doing. He was the one that insisted she come with them. And now one of the few people that didn't seem to think she was pond scum was being a jerk. She wasn't sure if she wanted to yell at someone or curl into a ball and cry.

"Legolas seems miffed," Aragorn said from beside her breaking her thoughts. She glared at him but he was apparently immune to the glares of seething women. "May I inquire as to what happened?"

"The hell if I know," she snapped frustrated to hear tears in her voice. It looked like she was going to be yelling and crying . . . great. "One minute we were talking and everything was fine, then he went and got all pensive on me."

"And this lead to his current state?" Aragorn asked confused at a few things she had said, but the chief among these was the desire to know what "hell" was.

"No," she replied angrily. "_That_ came after he said I was an elf and I asked if he was sure. Why would that irritate him?" she demanded. "It was an honest question. And just who the hell does he think he is that he gets to be _irritated _ if someone asks if he's sure of something!?"

Though he didn't have much experience with angry women, Aragorn knew that now was not the appropriate moment to remind her that she had gotten angry with Gandalf that morning for asking honest questions. And there was that word again; he would have to ask her once she calmed down. "Perhaps he was irritated because among his people he is a prince," Aragorn offered. "He is used to people believing what he says and is not accustomed to having to explain himself, especially to another elf."

"He's a prince?" she asked incredulously. "Sure doesn't act like one. What kind of prince fetches water?"

"The kind that is on a quest," Legolas said as he walked past her to the hobbits and handed Sam two rabbits. "I thought you might like some fresh meat," he told the hobbit before moving a little ways off to sit and begin cleaning and polishing his weapons facing away from Emily and Aragorn so that he didn't have to look at her.

She felt her face begin to blush and her anger fade into embarrassment as she realized that he had heard most of what she had just said. It wasn't that she cared if he heard it, per se, it was more that she hated the _way _he had heard it. She was a firm believer in the idea that you shouldn't say _about_ someone that you wouldn't say _to_ someone, and only after it had been said to the person it was about was it no longer gossip. And here she was, with a group of people that didn't like her anyway gossiping about a prince—assuming he actually was a prince.

"I'm an idiot," she said to Aragorn despondently.

"I am not sure what an idiot is, but I gather that it is something bad?" Aragorn said.

She laughed, a mirthless sound, "Yeah, it's bad."

"Then I doubt you are one," he replied with a smile that lit his grey eyes. "You are young and impulsive, but I do not think you are bad." Even if Gandalf was right and she was a risk to the world, he couldn't allow her to remain upset about something that was not in her power to understand. And it wasn't as though a few words of comfort to a young girl would bring about the end of everything.

"You're the only one," she said with a sad smile.

"Give them time," he suggested. "These are dark times and trust is hard to come by. For now, I must take my leave of you for I have tasks I must see to before nightfall."

Gandalf had watched their exchange and realized that he now had the perfect chance to speak with her since she was more willing to speak. As Aragorn walked away, Gandalf approached the newest addition to the fellowship. Before he could reach her, she sat on a rocky outcropping and placed her head in her hands and began twitching slightly. He briefly wondered if she was crying and would prefer to be left alone but decided that the need to discuss things was more urgent than her need for privacy.

"Emily," he said in a gentle voice, "we really must speak."

At his words, Emily felt even more devastated than she already did. She didn't want to talk to him. She knew that all he would want to do was talk about the continued continuity of the space time continuum (try saying _that _ten times fast) and she wasn't up to more hostility from her _companions_ at the moment. She didn't _want_ to talk about how to preserve the timeline of a world that she didn't even know how she got into in the first place. And had it ever occurred to him that, perhaps, she was _meant_ to disrupt things?

Instead of saying any of this out loud, she just looked at him with her red-rimmed eyes and asked "What do you want?"

"I wish to discuss why you might be here," Gandalf replied. "However, you seem upset and if we begin with what is troubling you we may gain a better understanding of how you came to be here initially."

She bit back her initial impulse to reply sarcastically to his observation that she was "upset" and to ask how talking about what upset her could _possibly_ lead to how she had gotten there. _He's being nice_ _there's no need to get snippy_, she mentally chastised herself. Even though she knew that he was just trying to get her to start talking, she couldn't help herself. She sighed and then said, "I'm just so confused. One minute I'm with my friends—and human—the next, I'm in the middle of nowhere with a bunch of strange men on a "quest" who think I'm an elf. And on top of that, they don't even want me here. _You_ don't want me here. And _I _don't want to be here."

"None of us _desire_ to be here," Gandalf said gently. "We are all here because we _must_ be. If given the choice to walk into danger or to stay safely at home, we would rather do the second."

"Then why aren't you?" she asked honestly curious as to why they were there if they didn't want to be. It didn't seem like any of them had been forced to come against their wills so why did they stay if they didn't want to.

"The answer is both simple and complex," Gandalf replied. "If we decided that we wanted to indulge in the comforts in life rather than accept the challenges we are currently presented with, the darkness would win and there would be no comforts left. Someone had to take up the mantle of challenge and combat the dark and we were all in the appropriate place at the appropriate time to be those people."

"So basically y'all are here because if you don't do it no one else will," she said thinking it was a pretty good reason to do something.

"Yes," Gandalf said. "We are on this quest because it is wrong to ask others to face challenges that we are unwilling to face ourselves despite the fact that we are capable of facing them. I am only speaking for myself here, I am sure the others have their own reasons. Perhaps if you ask they will tell you why they chose to come."

"I thought you didn't want me to talk to the others?" she asked a little bitterly though curiosity was again her chief emotion. He had spent the entire day stopping her conversations with the others and here he was _encouraging _her to start conversations. She couldn't keep up with his mood swings and hers. If he could just give her a list of rules, she would try to follow them but these changes were too hard to keep up with.

He sighed and looked at her levelly, "It is true that I am wary of allowing you to converse with the others." She started to speak but he held his hand up and she closed her mouth her brown eyes alight with anger again. "I do have cause for my caution. I saw the way you reacted to our names this morning and deduced that it meant you have some knowledge of us and our quest. Do you deny it?"

Now it was her turn to sigh. "No," she said shaking her head, "I don't deny it. If y'all are who you say you are and you are on the quest I think you are on, then I know how this ends. In my world, your story—this story—is a book and a movie. I never read the book, but I have seen the movie."

"I thought as much," Gandalf replied. "What is a . . . movie? No, wait, do not tell me. It is something that I need not know. What do you believe our quest to be?"

"Well," she said slowly unsure if she should answer, "_if _this is the quest I think it is, y'all are on a quest to destroy the one ring."

Gandalf closed his eyes at her words. He had feared that this would be the case. He ignored the obvious question of how their tale had made it to her time and how she had made it into theirs there were more important things to worry about now. He was trying to devise a way to keep her from revealing the truth to the others when the answer came to him.

Emily wondered briefly if he had fallen asleep. It had been a while since he had closed his eyes and she had said his name a few times and he hadn't responded. She had heard that the elderly were prone to cat-naps at random times but this seemed too random to her. He seemed to be mumbling in his sleep and he was twitching like he was having a nightmare. She extended her arm to shake his shoulder when a hand stopped her inches from him by grabbing her wrist.

She followed the arm up to a face and was surprised to see Legolas looking sternly at her. "You should not attempt to wake a meditating wizard. They tend to awake rather violently when startled," he explained before releasing her hand. "Even if he seems to only be an old man, Mithrandir possesses great power. It would be advisable for you to bear that in mind when dealing with him, Miss Emily."

"I thought you were mad at me," she said looking away from the penetrating blue eyes and staring at the ground again.

"I was," Legolas replied wondering why she would choose to bring up his anger at a time like this. Most people would never have brought it up again for fear of rekindling the flame. "I am still slightly angry with you but that is no reason to allow you to be destroyed."

"Well thank you," she said slightly impressed that he would choose to save her even when he was mad she wasn't sure she was that noble.

"There are no thanks needed, any of us would have done the same," he said. "Aragorn intended to stop you. I, however, was nearer." As he finished speaking Aragorn arrived at a run followed closely by Pippin.

"Oh," she breathed. "Well, thank you anyway. I'll try to remember to leave meditating wizards alone."

He nodded and smiled briefly at her before he turned and walked off again. She watched him leave and wondered if all the men in this time were as chivalrous as to save someone even if they were pissed off. Somehow she thought not, but she had no way to be sure.

"That was a very dangerous thing you almost did," Aragorn said, sounding all the world like her father. "It would have almost surely proved fatal."

"I didn't know," she said lamely. She felt embarrassed by her lack of knowledge even though there was no way that she could have known or been expected to.

"You do now," Aragorn replied gently. "Come I have found something for you to do." She stood with a sigh and followed him, hoping that the something he had found was something she could actually do.

"Don't worry," Pippin said to her conspiratorially as they followed Aragorn to where the rest of the fellowship was grouped around Sam's fire. "I almost did the same thing right after we left Rivendell."

She laughed at the young man—who seemed to be little more than a teenager—and smiled in gratitude at his admittance that she wasn't the only one who had about gotten destroyed by Gandalf's anti-morning state. He smile fell as Gimli and Boromir looked up at her from their various tasks with expressionless eyes that somehow made her feel as if they wouldn't have cared if Gandalf had killed her. She was even more determined than ever to do whatever Aragorn gave her to do well enough that no one could doubt that she was at least somewhat useful.

**ooOO88OOoo**

**Once again, I would like to thank anyone who took the time to read this chapter. If you have **_**any**_** suggestions as to how to improve (or just want to tell me I suck) I would enjoy reading it in the form of a review. **

**Thank you for reading,**

**Stickdonkeys**

**Again, I would like to thank Glory Bee for their review. I am glad that you don't think Emily is a Sue. I was afraid of creating one *shivers* and thank you for your kind words of encouragement :) I hope you enjoy this new chapter**


	4. The Spice of Life (or Not)

**ooOO88OOoo**

Emily wanted to weep as she looked at the pile of cloth in her lap. She had been afraid that something like this was going to happen. In her lap, she had a pair of pants, a shirt and two cloaks. All of which had massive, gaping holes, two of which (at least) were going to require patches in addition to stitching since the area was to threadbare to simply sew. Which sounded easy enough in theory . . . in practice, however, well, let's just say that she had never actually hand sewn a patch . . . or sewn a patch at all for that matter.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She _would_ fix these clothes, even if it killed her. With that thought in mind, she started on the cloak that had the smallest tear, a little "L" shaped thing. She looked at the needle in her hand, it wasn't the small shiny silver thing that she was used to. It was larger and made of either smooth bone or wood; she wasn't sure which and didn't particularly want to ask. Whatever it was made of, it was sharp enough for the purpose.

The thread she had been given was also a bit thicker that what she was used to, but, maybe, that would keep her from changing it from a single string to an inextricable bird's nest. _I'm so screwed,_ she thought bitterly before beginning to stitch the tear. She hoped that none of the others had seen her bout of panic.

Her hope was in vain however, for Boromir had noticed the way she had reacted to such a simple task and snorted in disgust. "Look there," he said to Gimli. He and the dwarf had come to a kind of understanding over their mutual distrust of Emily. "What good will she be against orcs when she panics at the sight of mere cloth?"

"'Tis beyond my ken," Gimli replied. "But we'd best get used to her. Gandalf wants to keep an eye on her and he is traveling with us so we'll not be rid of her any time soon.

Boromir had to admit that the dwarf was correct. She would accompany them until Gandalf found someone else to trust her to or until she was killed. Despite how she irked him, he could not bring himself to wish her dead just so he could be rid of her. He just hoped that she wouldn't get them all killed. He would hate to die before he could see the white towers of Gondor again.

Legolas, too, had noticed her distress, but rather than feel exasperated with her, he felt the desire to aid her. However, he was unsure—with how their other interactions had gone—if she would welcome his aid or be angered by it.

Aragorn noticed the elf's preoccupation and nudged him to remind him that they had been speaking. When Legolas looked at him, he raised an eyebrow in silent question. Legolas looked over Aragorn's shoulder pointedly at Emily and after one look at her frustrated face, Aragorn understood Legolas' disquiet.

"She will be fine, my friend," Aragorn said to Legolas, not bothering to keep his voice down because he knew that Emily didn't understand Elvish. "Let her do this task alone. It will help her where the others are concerned and help her with he own confidence as well."

"I know that you are correct," Legolas said. "It is hard for me to watch an elleth struggle when I know I can ease her burden. Besides, I fear that we will have to re-sew her seams in the end. They do not seem like they will withstand use."

"If that proves to be the case, I will re-stitch them when I am on watch," Aragorn replied.

"How will it help the others to accept her if you redo her tasks once she is finished?" Legolas demanded. "Then they will think her not only useless but incompetent as well."

"Not if they never know," Aragorn replied. "Besides, it is not like I will be losing sleep to do it. I would not have been sleeping in any case."

Legolas still failed to see the logic, but allowed the conversation to shift to other topics because he sensed that the stubborn man would not be swayed where Emily was concerned. Though he couldn't understand why Aragorn was so determined to help her be accepted by those who did not trust her.

If Legolas had asked, Aragorn would have told the elf that he did not understand it himself. Though he had no reason to trust her, she had no reason to lie to them. He himself had been the one to see her sudden appearance and the confusion she had experienced. What was it that Frodo had said about him in Bree? Something about the spies of the enemy seeming fairer and feeling fouler. And while it was true that as an elf few would suspect her of treachery, she didn't feel foul to him and he had learned over the many years of his life to trust his instincts on the characters of others. And he sensed no treachery in her, nor did Gandalf mention it as one of the dangers she presented to the company.

If Gandalf had believed her a spy, he would not have allowed her to join them on the road. _Yes, _said a small voice within him, _but Gandalf also failed to see the treachery of Saruman and allowed himself to be captured and imprisoned._ Which would only make him all the more cautious. No, he did not believe that she was a spy.

He was broken out of his musings by a hand grabbing his shoulder and his hand moved towards his sword of its own accord and had it partway from the sheath before he realized that it was Emily that had grabbed him. Her eyes were wide with shock. "My apologies, Emily," he said. "I was startled and in the wild when one is startled by something that something is rarely a friend."

"No," she said, her voice shaky. "My fault. I'll say something next time before I just grab someone."

He nodded wordlessly, she was correct that it was unwise to creep up on others in times of crisis, but he did not want to tell her so. "What did you need, Emily?"

"I—um—I need something to use as a patch to fix this hole in this cloak," she said holding it out to him with her hand through the hole.

He took it from her and examined it carefully. "This one is beyond repair," he finally said. "Though it is admirable that you would seek to do so. If any of the others need patched, it would be best to use the strong parts of this fabric than to attempt to salvage it. Even if that hole is patched, there are other areas that are threadbare and would soon break through, if they even stop the wind now." He showed her what he was talking about and she nodded before taking the cloak back and preparing to return to her spot and continue work.

She had only taken a couple of step when she turned and said, "Aragorn?" He turned to face her tilting his head to encourage her to continue. "Do you have something I can use to cut this cloak into patches? I have nothing I can use." He nodded and drew a dagger from his belt passing it to her and just barely containing the need to tell her to be careful. "Thank you," she said and both of them knew that her words were meant to cover more than just the use of the dagger.

"You are most welcome, Emily," he answered.

**ooOO88OOoo**

Eventually, once night was beginning to fall in earnest and the smell of Sam's stew was beginning to waft throughout the entire camp tantalizing them all with the thought of a warm meal, Emily finally got the hang of hand sewing. Her stitches had become a little smaller and now formed a more-or-less straight line. _If _she concentrated. She was so focused on getting it right that she didn't hear Sam tell the others that dinner was ready.

Noticing that she hadn't moved and wondering if she was waiting for an invitation to eat so as not to offend the others, Aragorn approached her with a bowl of soup in his hands. She was so focused on her task that she didn't hear him.

"Emily," he said quietly in an attempt to get her attention without startling her. He failed and she jumped at his voice with a yelp of surprise that quickly turned into a string of words, some of which he didn't know, some that he did but did not make sense in that context and some that he was surprised that she knew and would use.

She finally stopped swearing long enough to suck her pricked finger. Once she did, Aragorn said, "I appoligize that I startled you."

"A little," she replied with a laugh now examining her finger and watching the little drop of blood that was beading from the wound.

"That was a rather harsh litany for a little start," he replied with a little laugh of his own.

"Maybe," she agreed sheepishly realizing that he almost seemed _embarrassed_ by what she had said. "But it did cause me to stab myself, and that may warrant _some_ swearing," she said trying to justify her use of colorful language.

"Perhaps," he said shaking his head," though I do wonder where you acquired the knowledge of such words." When she only laughed by offered him no explanation he continued speaking. "For now," he offered, "we can give your injured finger a brief respite." As he spoke, he offered her the bowl he was carrying.

She smiled and thanked him before setting her sewing beside her and taking the offered bowl. He sat beside her and picked up her discarded work, noticing her improvement and mentally smiling with approval. Soon she would sew well enough that none could fault her work, though that did not mean that they could not dislike her presence.

Emily took a moment to smell the stew. Despite being in the wilderness, or perhaps _because_ of it, it smelled delicious! She picked up the spoon, eager to see if it tasted as good as it smelled and nearly gagged as it hit her mouth.

While the texture of the soup was wonderful, as was the aroma, the actual _flavor_ lacked something to be desired—namely seasoning. She chewed it trying to keep the grimace off her face. And swallowed. She glanced around at the others and found that they seemed to be enjoying the stew.

"If everything alright, Emily?" Aragorn asked.

She looked at him and smiled before she lied. "It was hotter than I expected," she said. He nodded and went back to finishing the seam she had been working on before he gave her food. She put a smaller bite in her mouth and chewed quickly before swallowing, as flavorless as it was, she was hungry and it looked nutritious.

"Aren't you hungry?" she asked. "You should be eating, not doing my job for me. I can finish it up later."

"I am," he replied. "And I will eat."

"If you're hungry, why are you waiting?" she asked confused.

He sighed and debated with himself if he should tell her the truth, but decided that since it was going to be a problem for a while, she may as well know. "I am waiting because we only have dining utensils for nine," he replied. "We are now ten so there are not enough to go around. Once you or one of the others has finished I will get my turn."

Her first reaction was shock, followed immediately by embarrassment. "No," she said shaking her head for emphasis, "that is no fair. I'm the one that messed it up, I should wait. Here, take it." She extended the bowl to him her eyes pleading.

"No," he replied firmly. "I will not take your soup. Do not worry; I have waited much longer for a hot meal in the past."

She sighed knowing that she wasn't going to win an argument with this man. Something about him suggested that he was more than her appeared. And for some strange reason, he reminded her a bit of her father. She turned back to the soup, determined to eat her fill quickly so that he wouldn't have to go hungry on her account. With the goal of emptying the bowl in sight, the lack of flavor became less of an obstacle to her eating. Within five minutes, she was looking at the bottom of an empty bowl with a satisfied smile on her face though she had a sinking suspicion that she may have eaten too much in her haste to finish.

Aragorn heard a contented sigh and looked up to see Emily staring at the bowl with a smile. He looked closer and realized that it was an _empty_ bowl. He looked at her in surprise. He had never even seen one of the _hobbits_ empty a bowl that fast. "Do you still hunger?" he asked, he shock obvious in his tone.

"Hm," she hummed as she looked at him. "Oh, no! I couldn't eat another bite. Just let me run down to the stream and rinse this out and I'll bring you a bowl of stew, OK?" He nodded, still wondering where the soup had gone. She smiled and nodded to him before she walked off into the woods in the direction she and Legolas had gone earlier. Once he was sure that she had actually gone, he stood and began examining the area she had sat for evidence that the soup had been anything other than eaten—of which there was none.

"She actually ate all of that," he laughed.

"Yep," Pippin agreed. Aragorn glanced at him. "I watched her, Strider. It was impressive. She has a healthy appetite. If only she was a hobbit. . ." Aragorn laughed at the young hobbit.

"Do not worry, Pippin," he said with a knowing smile. "I'm sure that someday you will find a hobbit lass with a healthy appetite who will make you very happy."

Pippin shrugged. "Did Emily say that she wanted more?" he asked. " 'Cause Sam won't let the rest of us near the pot. He said that once everyone had had firsts, maybe the rest of us could have seconds and I know that you haven't eaten."

Aragorn laughed at Pippin. "Worry not," he promised, "she has gone to wash the bowl so that I can get my "firsts." When she returns I will suggest to Sam that it is fine to allow seconds. But not before. I would like to eat today and I know that if I allow seconds you ravenous hobbits will finish it." Though his words were harsh, the tone was one of jest and Pippin—good sport that he is—took it as such.

"Oh if you insist," he replied with a mock scowl on his face. "A hobbit will starve at this rate." Though his scowl disappeared as Emily walked out of the woods and up to Sam. He seemed to want to stop her, but she pointed over to Aragorn so Sam sighed and bent to fill the bowl again as Aragorn approached the fire.

"Thank you," Emily said as she took the bowl from Sam. She turned to return to where she had left Aragorn sitting and almost ran into him. She jerked back in an attempt to keep from spilling the soup all over him and overbalanced on a rock behind her and almost fell. The only thing that prevented her was a hand on her shoulder. She turned slowly expecting to see Legolas, or maybe Gandalf, but even though both of them had reached out and started to catch her, none of them actually did. She realized this as she turned to thank her rescuer and saw the two of them sitting on the other side of the fire. And the person who caught her was too tall to be a hobbit. That meant that the hand on her shoulder . . . belonged to . . . oh crap! . . . Boromir.

Once she realized who had caught her, she was more embarrassed than before. _Great_, she thought bitterly. _The president of the I-hate-Emily club __**had**__ to be the one to keep me from falling on my ass. Wonderful._ She wasn't sure if it would have been worse to fall.

Once he was sure that he had her balance back, Boromir released her. He still wasn't sure why he had prevented her from falling. The only thing that he could think of was that she was a woman, albeit a strange one, and he couldn't stand by and watch her injure herself. Especially not on something as harmless as a rock outcropping. The others also seemed surprised by his actions, especially the elf. Rather stay and endure their glances, he turned to walk into the woods.

"Um," he heard Emily say. "Thank you!" he grunted in response and kept walking.

"Well," Aragorn whispered in her ear. "That was a good sign."

"How so?" she demanded staring after the cantankerous man.

"He did not allow you to fall," Aragorn replied. "It is a place to start. Also, he did at least acknowledge your thanks."

Emily didn't agree, but she didn't have the heart to argue with him so she shrugged in response. She didn't feel like any progress had been made towards Boromir tolerating her, let alone behaving civilly towards her. She didn't think progress was possible.

**ooOO88OOoo**

**Just a quick WTF moment, Microsoft spell check is nuts. It has no problem with the words, Aragorn, Gandalf, Pippin, Frodo or even **_**Mithrandir**_** but gives me a red line under Gimli, Legolas, and Boromir and orc . . . This I do not understand. . . **

**Anyway, here is the newest chapter for you, I hope you enjoyed it. And I promise, I am not a Boromir hater. I just feel like he is one of those people that needs to warm up to others :)**

**As always thank you to anyone who reads this and a special thank you to Yashida and Dizzie 123321 for adding this to their alerts. **

**Glory Bee: I am glad that you enjoyed it. And I think you were right, once I changed the category I got a lot more views than I had. I was always intending there to be romance, but I didn't want to give it away too soon or make it the only focus of the story so I didn't place it in that category. And thank you! I have always loved Gandalf as a character and am so sad when he is only there because he has to be. He can play a much bigger role (especially in an AU style story) :). I hope you like this one as well as you did the last!**

**Kiki: There you are, an update. And thank you for your review :)**

**Thank you again, **

**Stickdonkeys**


	5. All the Comfort of Home:or Lack There of

After her run in with Boromir, Emily had returned to her spot and resumed her sewing. The day, which had been nice enough—all things considering—while the sun was out was rapidly becoming down right cold. Soon she was glad of the cloak spread across her lap because she was _not_ wearing enough clothing for this weather. _If I had known this was going to happen I would have packed more clothes,_ she thought.

It was then that she realized something; she had no other clothes. And she had no idea how long she was going to be here. She did know that it was going to be longer than she would want to wear the same dress without having a chance to wash it.

_Maybe one of the others will have something I can borrow while I wash this,_ she thought before promptly rejecting the idea because the only one of her "companions" who looked like his clothes _might_ fit her was someone she would never dare ask: Boromir. As she thought through the various ways she might be able to wash her dress without removing it from her body, another even more disturbing thought came to her. When was she going to be able to wash herself let alone her dress?

She had been on camping trips before and had gone a couple of days without a proper shower in the past, but if she was where she now _thought_ she was, this was going to be more than a _couple_ of days. And on the note of camping, she hadn't seen anything remotely resembling a tent anywhere. None of the men appeared to be carrying one and she had watched as they unloaded the pony but didn't see one. She wondered where everyone was going to sleep.

While she was lost in her disturbing thoughts, the members of the fellowship were sitting around the fire discussing where they should go next. It was a discussion that they had had many times before and everyone knew where everyone else stood on the matter, but it was really the only thing they had to discuss since none of them wanted to think on what they would do _after_ they traversed the Misty Mountains.

"I still hold that Moria is the best path," Gimli asserted to the groans of the others. He was the only one that though it was a good path. The others were opposed to it for their own reasons—all of which they felt trumped the Dwarf's desire to visit his relatives in the middle of the quest.

"We know," Merry replied. "But I, for one, don't particularly fancy the idea of spending that much time underground in the dark." Even though most hobbits lived underground, it wasn't _dark_ in their homes. Most were beautiful and fairly well lit. The idea of a cave, like the one Bilbo had met Gollum in . . . Merry didn't want to go into one of those.

"Nor I," Legolas agreed. Gandalf just shook his head. Though he said nothing, he had stronger reasons to avoid Moria than a distaste for darkness but even his reason would not stop him if that was the path he was required to take.

"Oh, yes!" Gimili scoffed, "Climbing a mountain and braving the snow-covered pass and potentially sliding off the mountain to our deaths is a much more safe and comfortable option than enduring a few days in the darkness."

It sounded as though he would continue, but Boromir entered the conversation before he had to endure the Dwarf expounding the wonders of Moria—which Gimli had never even seen. "Neither of those paths are necessary," Boromir insisted. "We could avoid both trials by utilizing the Gap."

"Yes, we could," Aragorn replied, growing exasperated with their continued return to a topic that was getting them nowhere as none would yield their positions that their path was the best option. "And in the process of avoiding those discomforts, we could walk directly into Sauroman's waiting claws. No, that path is closed to us."

"What of the path that Bilbo took over the mountains all those years ago?" Frodo asked. Everyone looked up in surprise. This was a new suggestion. At first it seemed like an elegant solution, and the other hobbits wondered why they—who had heard Bilbo's story so many times—had not thought of it earlier.

"Alas, we cannot," Gandalf said. "That path takes us too far north and would add weeks to our journey, weeks we cannot spare. You must remember, Frodo, Bilbo's destination was much different than our own."

"Aye," Gimli agreed, "we cannot waste time. Climbing a mountain seems like a foolish waste of time when we can simply pass through it."

"Aye," Legolas replied. "As taking the time to go under a mountain and then return to the surface will take less time. It is the same climb; the only difference is the direction of the climbs. In one, we first climb up and then down, in the other the reverse. If I will be making the same journey I would prefer to do it under the stars rather than under the earth."

"Why do we return to this subject?" Boromir asked. "It is irrelevant. The majority of us desire to attempt the pass and Gandalf desires this path. Elrond appointed him to lead us and I say we let him. Even if the path he chooses may be one of folly. At any rate, I feel that it is unwise to discuss such things openly. We do not know who may be listening." The last was said with a pointed glance at Emily, who was still sitting under the tree she had chosen earlier staring at the cloak in her lap though the night was now too dark for her to be able to see to sew away from the firelight.

"Your distrust of her is unfounded," Aragorn said. "She has traveled with us the entire day and never once did she inquire after anything that a spy would have endeavored to learn."

"Perhaps that only means that she is a skilled spy," Boromir insisted. "Were I a spy, I would not attempt to learn things upon first being introduced to the company. Rather, I would integrate myself into the company and gather information subtly."

"She is not a spy," Gandalf said quietly, his eyes reflecting the firelight in a weird way that made him appear less than human. "I know not what she is, but I do know that she is no agent of Sauron. She has not the taint of evil upon her, despite her strange behavior and unknown origin."

"All the same," Boromir replied shifting uncomfortably at the wizard's words, "I would sleep more soundly if she were unable to cause mischief while we are unaware."

"As would I," Gimli said. "I do not trust the she-elf."

"And what do you propose we do?" Legolas asked, his voice quiet but with an anger behind it that was clear despite the lack of volume. "Should we truss her up like an animal? Or should a couple of us stand guard over her with weapons drawn lest she attempt evil? Nay! I will not stand by while you mistreat a woman, be she of my kin or not."

Aragorn gently placed a hand on the arm of the enraged elf in an attempt to calm him. "Legolas, calm yourself. We do not need to fight amongst ourselves," he said in Elvish before turning to the others. "No one will attempt to restrain her in anyway," he said the tone of his voice brooking no argument.

"If that is what you wish," Boromir replied, his tone suggesting that that was not what he wanted to say. Gimli didn't agree, but he didn't argue either. Instead he mumbled to himself something dark sounding in the back of his throat, but it may have only sounded that way because none there spoke the language of the Dwarves.

Gandalf watched the exchange in silence. He hoped that she hadn't been sent to sow the seeds of discord among the already tense alliance that they called a fellowship. He was sure that if the wrong word was said at the wrong time the fellowship would dissolve and the fate of Middle Earth would become more uncertain that it already was. Factions that had been tentative up to this point, namely Boromir and a weak alliance with Gimli on one side and Aragorn, Legolas and the Hobbits on the other side, had solidified with the addition of Emily. He wondered briefly if she was a sign from the Valar that the quest was doomed to fail, or if she was their solution to that imminent failure. Not for the first time, he wished that he could see the way this would end and be better able to choose wisely.

"If we are going to trust her, should one of us not invite her to join us around the fire?" Boromir asked grudgingly. "Or is it your solution to the issue of her continued presence with us that she freeze to death?"

"I'll go," Pippin offered hopping to his feet and taking off. He was glad for the excuse to leave the tense situation, even if only briefly. He wasn't sure why everyone seemed intent on fighting with one another. Did the path they took really matter that much as long as they got there in the end? He shook his head and kept walking towards Emily. He half-expected her to look up before he got there, like the others would have, but he was within arms-reach of her and she still hadn't stirred.

"Emily," he said quietly, reaching out towards her. At her name, she looked up at him with wide, confused eyes. "Are you all right?" Pippin asked.

She shook her head and took a deep breath. "Yeah, I'm fine," she said. "I was just thinking about . . . things." She had felt it would be wrong to say, 'I was just thinking about the loss of some superficial comforts during the quest to save the world,' so she omitted the description of the "things."

"What things?" Pippin asked, wondering what she could have been thinking of that would cause her to lose complete awareness of her surroundings.

She laughed as little. "It's embarrassing," she replied.

"I can't be that bad," he assured her. "You can tell me."

"Fine," she replied with a wry smile wondering why she felt comfortable talking to him. "I was just thinking that it would be ages until I could have a warm place to sleep or clean clothes."

"I miss those things too," Pippin replied. "And regular meals at least six times a day. But I particularly miss _baths_. Cousin Frodo's house at Crickhollow had the most amazing bath room, and the baths at Rivendell . . ." his voice was wistful and his eyes unfocused as he remembered the places he was talking about.

"I don't suppose we have anywhere else like that scheduled on this trip anytime soon, do we?" Emily asked.

"No," Pippin replied, coming back to the present with a sad smile, "that we don't. For now we'll just have to make do with cold mountain streams. When we can find them, that is. But I can offer you somewhere a bit warmer than here to sleep. Come join us around the fire."

She nodded and gathered up her things, though why she bothered to keep her purse she didn't know. It had nothing in it that could help her here, except for her hairbrush and a few hair ties, assuming they made the trip, but she couldn't bring herself to leave it. She smiled when Pippin took the cloak from her so that she could get to her feet more easily and together they walked into the firelight.

The others looked up at her as she did and she was glad to see that most of their glances held no open hostility even if they weren't friendly yet. "Pippin," Aragorn said, "please return that cloak to Emily. It is my spare and I doubt that bag you carry contains one. Without it you will be far too cold. Please accept it."

"Thank you," Emily said taking the cloak back from Pippin. "I was wondering what I was going to do for warmth."

He nodded and then said, "You may also use my bedroll, if you would like." She must have looked shocked as she pondered the implications of his words because he laughed before he explained. "I have first watch and will have no need of it. When I wake Legolas for second watch, I will simply use his and then he the person's whom he awakens."

"Oh," she breathed as she felt her face color at the thought that had been running through her head. Not that she saw Aragorn _that_ way, but she wasn't entirely sure how any of them saw her and she knew what such a statement would have meant in her world. "Thank you," she said with a laugh. When she saw the inquiring glances of the others she gave an uncomfortable laugh but declined their wordless pleas for explanation and stared into the fire.

**ooOO88OOoo**

**Here we are, new chapter for ya'll. Sorry about the delay I will try to minimize it in the future. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and look forward to reading what you think of it (even if you hate it—especially if you hate it so I can try to fix it). But whether you loved it or hated it, thank you for taking the time to read it.**

**And a special thank you to: **

**Glory Bee: I'm glad that you liked that chapter. And I have learned that it is the little things that either make a story great or make it a failure so I try to think through things before I write them—or after in some cases. And she needed to make a couple of friends, can't have her whining and being all "woe is me" forever ;)**

**Reader-anonymous-writer: Yeah, Emily is a little bit of an idiot, isn't she :) I'm glad you are enjoying her idiocy so far.**

**Karen: Thank you so much and I am sorry I made you wait so long for an update. I will try not to do this in the future. **

**Also thank you to the people who added this story to their alerts or favorites. I won't call you out in case this is one of those guilty pleasures that you don't want to admit to being on your lists but I will thank you for doing it!**

**Until next time,**

**Stickdonkeys**


	6. Rocks and Other Uncomfortable Things

Even though she had been careful to try to place the bedroll on a patch of thick looking grass with few rocks underneath, she decided that she needn't have bothered. It felt like every single sharp rock in Middle Earth had found its way under her bed. Try as she might, Emily could not find a comfortable place. But, judging by the cacophony of snores filling the camp, the others had not having the same problem. She wondered if there was an art to selecting a sleeping place. She rolled over one more time, rubbing her rib where the latest rock had been. The new position was no better.

With a sigh, Emily stood and wrapped herself in the borrowed cloak she had been using as a blanket. Again she was struck with the feeling that she was a child. The cloak, rather than stopping an inch or two above her ankles like they did on the others had about that much fabric on the ground. She wondered if the moonlight was enough light for her to put a quick hem in so that it didn't drag. She quickly decided that it wasn't when she couldn't even find the needle in her purse. With nothing else to do, she gathered the excess fabric around her and walked toward the solitary form of Aragorn keeping watch and sat down next to him.

"Can't sleep," she replied to the silent question in his grey eyes and watched as they softened slightly.

"Can you not?" he asked. She shook her head and he sighed. "The first few nights in the wild are difficult after time spent in the comfort of a home. Especially under our current circumstances."

She nodded, pretending that she knew what he was talking about. Besides, she had seen for herself how difficult finding a comfortable place could be.

"But worry not!" he assured her. "Soon you will become accustomed to it, if only through exhaustion."

"That's comforting," she replied sarcastically. "So I'll either get used to it or I'll be so tired that I don't care. What if neither happens?"

He paused a moment before he responded. "If you can do neither, I suppose you will die." He tried to keep his face blank, but the shock evident in her brown eyes was too much and he smiled before he laughed quietly.

"I assure you," he said, "eventually you will be more than grateful for the hard ground simply for being a dry place to sleep."

"Well, until I am do you mind if I sit with you?" Emily asked. "If I can't sleep, I may as well be useful."

"If you wish," he replied. "And extra pair of eyes on watch is always useful. I will only caution you to bear in mind that we will not stop long enough for you to rest until near nightfall tomorrow."

"I'll be ok," she replied leaning against the cold rocks behind her. "Besides, I wasn't going to get much sleep anyway."

They sat in silence for a while, both watching for any sigh of anything out of the ordinary—though Emily wasn't entirely sure what qualified as ordinary—and listening for any sound other than the snores of the others. Eventually, Aragorn's curiosity got the better of him and he asked the question that had been burning in his mind all evening.

"Emily?" he asked and waited until she hummed in response to continue. "Something you said earlier has been intriguing me. May I inquire as to what or who is hell?"

She laughed in response before covering her mouth in embarrassment as a couple of her companions—the lighter sleepers—rolled fitfully before resuming their snoring. "You didn't have to wait so long, you could have just asked," she said.

"You were slightly irate," he explained. "It did not seem to be the appropriate time."

"No," she said with a smile, "I suppose not." She took a deep breath and gathered her thoughts before she began to speak. "Well . . . hell is kinda hard to explain. In my world it means different things to different people. But from what I understand, most people see hell as a place of fire and eternal torment ruled by the Devil—um the source . . . no, not the source. Suffice it to say that he is evil and leads others to do evil."

"Ah." Aragorn said. He had been seeking a parallel in Middle Earth and he thought he had found it. "He is similar to Sauron."

Emily thought for a moment, attempting to remember everything she knew about Sauron. She remembered that he had tricked the leaders of Elves, Dwarves and Men with the rings and had enslaved the latter. He had seduced Sauroman with the promise of power and led him to evil. He also had created a Ring that corrupted those near it. _And _he had that creepy all-seeing eye thing. She shuddered slightly thinking about that last part.

"Yeah," she finally said. "Sauron and the Devil are similar." Her own words evoked a feeling of dread in her. They were basically on a quest to defeat the Devil and the forces of Hell. For the first time, the gravity of the situation hit her and she was suddenly very afraid.

Seeing the fear in her eyes, Aragorn placed a hand gently on her shoulder. "I apologize," he said. "This was a conversation that would have been better left for daylight."

"You didn't know," she replied and though she smiled, the fear was still present in her brown eyes. "I didn't even know," she said with a bitter laugh.

Regardless of what she had said, he still felt that her current despair was his fault. He had been the one to suggest the topic of hell for discussion. He tried to think of a way to lift her spirits and get her to think of other things. "Times are dark enough without dwelling on dark topics," he finally said. "Would you like to hear about one of the _many _times that Elladan, Elrohir and I caused mischief in Rivendell and called down the wrath of Lord Elrond?"

Even though she wasn't sure who the other two men—she thought they were men anyway—were, but she would gladly listen to anything that would help to take her mind off the latest, and worst, of her realizations today. Soon, she found that her worry over the potential connection between Sauron and the Devil was pushed to the back of her mind as she attempted to stifle her laughter at the things Aragorn had claimed to have done and attempted to imagine him actually _doing_ those things. Aragorn knew that telling her a story in an attempt to distract her while they were on watch was probably not the best idea, but he felt that he could do both at the same time. Also it helped him to think of happier times rather than the difficulties ahead.

Aragorn finished his story with a wistful smile on his face as he remembered how simple things had been then. Even Elrond had been less stern, for though he was telling them off for their behavior his eyes had sparkled with amusement while he had done so. Even back then, Aragorn had known that he wasn't truly in trouble, despite what the Elf Lord has said.

"You miss them, don't you?" Emily asked.

"Yes," he replied. "I also miss the simplicity of the time. A time before the darkness crept back into the world and before I knew the truth about myself."

"I'm sorry," Emily said feeling for the man before her, both because he had to be away from those he loved and because she knew the truth he spoke of and would have hated to learn that she was related to the man that had allowed darkness to prevail.

" 'Tis no matter," he said mentally shaking himself from his brief melancholy. "Once our quest is done perhaps we will be able to return to those happy times."

Emily wanted to tell him that happier times _would_ be the outcome of the quest and the words were on the tip of her tongue when she stopped herself. She remembered Gandalf's words. Despite what she had said about _not_ caring about ruining the story line she didn't want to erase the happy ending by assuring a major player in it that there _would_ be one. What if that certainty changed his decisions? No, for now, it was better for her to remain silent.

"Perhaps," she finally said, though the pause had been too long. It aroused suspicion in Aragorn as to what she had truly been thinking, but he decided not to pry. . . at least until the sun was in the sky once more.

The two of them once again sat in silence and continued the watch. As the time passed, Emily tried to remain alert but the lack of stimulation coupled with the emotional, mental and physical fatigue of the day mad her task impossible. Soon she found herself in that strange place between awake and asleep where she could still hear what was going on around her but she was an impassive observer.

Aragorn started slightly when he heard ran unexpected noise from beside him but quickly relaxed as he realized that it was simply a not-so-dainty snore from Emily. At first he had mistaken the sound for the growl of a wild animal. He smiled that such a sound could come from her.

"Unable to sleep?" he asked quietly with a laugh. "It is good that she was not on watch alone." Her face wrinkled a little as though she had heard his comment, but she didn't wake.

Not for the first time, Aragorn wondered how old Emily was. Physically she appeared to be in her early twenties—were she human—but as she was an Elf that told him nothing. However, he knew from her impulsiveness that she had yet to attain maturity were she a natural born Elf. She was perplexing. And another layer to the puzzle was that he was unsure how age transmitted when one magically changed races. He had never heard of such a thing occurring before. He knew that he could simply ask her age, but where was the amusement in that? It also provided him something to think about that was neither depression nor would lead to his potential death or the potential deaths of others if he chose the wrong answer.

He sighed and settled himself to finish what little was left of his watch and tried to ignore the tendrils of sleep that were beginning to creep through his mind. When the stars at long last completed one-third of their nocturnal arc he stood and went to wake Legolas. He was glad when the Elf awoke without difficulty and stood to offer the exhausted Ranger his bedroll.

"Thank you," Aragorn said to Legolas' silent offer, "but there is no need, my friend. I am able to use my own."

"But what of Miss Emily?" the Elf asked genuinely concerned.

"She was unable to sleep and elected to help me keep watch," Aragorn answered stifling a yawn with his hand.

"Where she fell asleep," Legolas finished.

Aragorn nodded. "I, however, do not share her inability and hear the call of sleep. A call I intend to head."

Legolas smiled and placed a hand on the Man's shoulder. "Then answer the call. Sleep well." Aragorn patted the hand and turned to go to the place Emily had placed his bedroll. Some part of his brain registered that she had chosen a good spot before he laid himself down and gratefully allowed sleep to take him.

Once the man had lain down, Legolas walked to the place Aragorn had recently vacated and settled himself to perform his portion of the watch. To occupy his mind, he tried to make sense of the strange occurrences of the day. Emily truly presented a perplexing conundrum. He had never heard of anything of this kind happening in the history of Middle Earth, even though he had the long history of the Elves to examine. Even in the beginning, people did not just appear; they were created. And as far as he knew, people—with the exception of the Half-Elven—could not change the race into which they were born.

As little as he like to agree with the confrontation Gondorian, the man was correct. Her appearance in the middle of their journey at a location it would be difficult to be rid of her in a way that assured her safety was suspicious. But her confusion at the situation made him think that she was either the best spy he had ever seen or not a spy. The second option made the most sense. What self-respecting spy would _admit_ that she knew the people she was meant to spy on?

Nay, he could not believe her to be a spy. Though what she _was_ he had yet to discern. He allowed these thoughts, as well as his observations since the formation of the fellowship, to roll around his head as they came to him hoping that he would be able to make a connection that might allow him to determine what the Vallar had intended though her presence. Though he was sure that the connection would remain unmade until such a time as they chose to reveal it.

**ooOO88OOoo**

Emily awoke the next morning to the feeling of the sun on her face. She stretched a little wondering why her neck felt so stiff and why she felt like she had slept on a rock. She opened her eyes expecting to see the ceiling of her room, or perhaps the roof of a tent. Instead she saw the sardonic face of Boromir looking at her.

"Good morning," he said. "I trust you slept well?"

"I've slept better," she replied. "How was your night?"

"The first two-thirds of it were wonderful," he replied. "The last third lacked something to be desired. Though I do prefer either first or last watch to the middle watch."

Emily looked at him warily. She couldn't understand why he was being so nice to her. They were actually having a civilized conversation. She was under the impression that he hated her. "I can understand that," she replied. "I would hate to be woken in the middle of the night. If I got to pick I would probably prefer the first watch to any of the later ones. I've always been better at staying up late rather than getting up early."

Boromir smiled at her. He had been right. If he would be nice to her she would open up and might slip up and reveal her true purpose for being there. Despite what many people thought, just because he was strong didn't mean he was stupid. And this was a job for finesse rather than strength.

"You would get along well with my brother," Boromir said. "Faramir has always been one to prefer the late hours to the dawn hours."

"What about you?" Emily asked hoping that if she showed some interest in him he might decide that she wasn't that bad. "Which do you prefer?

Boromir was surprised by the question. He hadn't expected her to ask about such superficial things. "I, I prefer the dawn hours," he replied uncomfortably. When he didn't ask a question in return they fell into an kind of uncomfortable silence.

"So . . ." Emily said slowly trying to think of something to say to break the silence when Boromir stood suddenly.

"The sun is high enough that we should wake the others and begin the next leg of the trek to the pass," he said stiffly before he walked away and began the task he had suggested to her.

"Yeah," Emily muttered under her breath. "progress." She shook her head as she stood and joined Boromir in waking the others. As she attempted to wake the hobbits she had the sinking suspicion that he had chosen to wake the others since they _had _to be easier to get up in the morning that hobbits.

**ooOO88OOoo**

**Well, there's another chapter out. I hope you enjoyed it. I know that I enjoy hearing your opinions about it. And I appoligize for not getting a better description of Emily in the story yet. I tried to slip in a few mentions of her physical features and I will get more in as they will fit.**

**As always thank you to anyone who has read, favorited, or followed this story and a special thank you to:**

**Glory Bee: I though you would like that. And I see that as the kind of thing that would happen if you place a modern jaded woman in the world of chivalry. :) And the way I see it (and I will explain this later for people who don't read ANs) Legolas is more slender, and his clothes would fit better BUT as a woman she would have different proportions in key areas (hips etc.) and they would be uncomfortably snug there. So while they would work, either Boromir or Aragorn's clothes would be more comfortable but Aragorn's would be much too long and too big is easier to work around than too long (trust me).**

**Cursed Silence: Don't worry, I'm bad about that too . . . not that it makes it any better I suppose. And I'm glad that you feel it is under appreciated. I figured that in a genera saturated with 10****th**** walker fics it would take a long time to build a following if I ever did. And I'm glad that you adore it. I always worry that I get too wordy or boring or that people will think "why do we care about this." And thank you, I really do try to think things through, it helps prevent writing myself into a corner. And I'm glad that you like Emily's reactions and decided to read it despite disliking Gandalf's decision. I hope to see another review from you soon. And thank you for this one.**

**Wicked Little: Thank you for reviewing! I'm sorry about that. I was trying to avoid a chunky passage about her looks but I am trying to slip in lots of clues to help fix that problem. And I'm glad that she is not a Sue. . . I generally dislike them though they are occasionally done well. I'm trying to work on the uber-long sentences. They are a major flaw in my writing. And worry not! I totally intend to eff it up. Where's the fun in reading the same thing over and over again.**

**Obscure Bird: Thank you! And don't worry, this will get effed up. I have tried to fix the problem of Emily's description, but we're going to do it a little at a time so that we avoid the gag-inducing description paragraph. (I hate those). And as to the explination for the Boromir's clothes thing, see the review reply to Glory Bee sinceI don't' want the replies to be longer than the chapter. And she has only seen the movie, but not read the books. As for the other questions, you'll just have to read to find out ;). And thank you again for the complement.**

**Ilovelotr: Thank you. And I am working on a way to fit a description in that won't interrupt the story flow too much. Don't worry, she has no relation to ANY of the original LOTR characters. And I hated to make her an elf, but it just had to happen to work with a plot element later. And I thank you for the praise and hope you enjoy the later chapters. **

**Kaeli: Thank you, and I will try to make the updates more regular. I had an exam last week that I didn't know was coming as fast as it did and had to do a cram session rather than write (stupid school lol).**

**Guest: I'm glad you enjoyed that line.**

**Pollie: Thank you. And don't worry. All will be revealed in time.**

**Guest: I'm sorry I'm a horrible person that needs to be thrown in a pit of rabid Canadian geese. I will try to update sooner in the future. **


	7. Uncomfortable Silences and Talks

Once everyone was awake, Emily realized that she had a more pressing issues than how to wake a hobbit that didn't want to be woken. She glanced around quickly and seeing that everyone else either busy packing up camp or gone she headed for the woods hoping her brief absence wouldn't be missed. She had almost made it to the edge of the forest when she heard her name. Sighing she turned to face Legolas.

"Miss Emily," he said, "it is dangerous to wander alone. May I accompany you?"

She looked at him incredulously. Was he _that_ obtuse or did natural born elves not pee? "No," she replied her tone revealing her incredulity, "you may not accompany me."

She saw shock and hurt pass briefly across his features. "I am sorry if I have offended you in some way," he said. "It was not my intention."

"Offended? No," she said confused by what he was talking about. Why would her not wanting him to come with her while she visited a bush make him think that she was offended? "But can we talk about this in a minute? Otherwise the reason for needing to talk about it will be different."

"Oh," he breathed, understanding dawning in his eyes. From the direction she had chosen he had assumed that she was going to the stream to help wake herself. "I apologize, Miss Emily. I thought you were—"

"I'll hear your apology later," Emily called over her shoulder as she sprinted to the forest. "I'll be back."

Once she was far enough away from the camp that she could no longer hear their voices, she found a place that had a couple of thick bushes on two sides. Checking quickly for poison ivy and wondering briefly if they even _had _poison ivy in Middle Earth. She took care of her business listening the whole time for the sound of any of the others approaching. Only once she was on the spot, so to speak, did she realize that she hadn't brought anything with her that even resembled toilet paper. Digging through her purse, she found a travel pack of Kleenex. She sighed as she realized that eventually she would have to find something else since they weren't going to last forever.

_I wonder what the men are using_ she thought before she shook her head. _On second thought, no. I really don't. _She sighed again and decided that she would deal with that problem when it came up. _If_ it came up. She still wasn't sure how long she was going to be there. After she had rearranged her clothing, she had the undeniable impulse to wash her hands. It was so ingrained in her that that was the appropriate thing to do after one used the bathroom that she couldn't even shake it when she was located in a land of questionable hygiene.

With this need pushing her to do something, she walked to the stream where she had washed out Aragorn's bowl the day before and knelt to at least immerse her hands in the cold running water. She knew that without soap this was really an exercise in futility, but she needed to do something. She didn't even the little bottle of hand sanitized that she had taken to the fair with her since she had lent it to Nicole earlier that day just before she had gotten transported here. She kept her hands in the water for less than a minute before the cold water began to numb her fingers. Standing again, she looked at her wet hands and shook them a couple of times in an attempt to get the water off before she gave up on the air drying idea and just wiped them on her skirt.

_They weren't clean anyway,_ she reminded herself trying to justify the act to herself. _I'd better get back before they send out a search party. . . or just leave me._ It was this last thought that made her decided to finish her morning ritual as she walked. Everything went as it normally did—save for the fact that she didn't have a mirror but since she hadn't brought any make up with her other than her lip gloss that lived in her purse that was a nonissue. What _was_ an issue, however, was her hair.

She usually pulled it into a ponytail or a loose braid. It was just easier to deal with that way. But yesterday, Nicole and the rest of the group had insisted that she leave it down arguing that Renaissance women wore their hair loose. She wasn't sure whether that was true or not, but much like her clothes, she hadn't really felt like arguing. Also, it had been a nice day and she hadn't felt like the wind would put too many tangles in it.

Now, she regretted it. Her elbow-length, curly, red hair was knotted from a day and night spent free. She sighed and began digging through her purse for her brush while she walked. She had just found it when she walked into what felt like a brick wall. She laughed and shook her head a little at the fact that she had just walked into a tree. She knew better than to take her eyes off where she was walking. That was why she had gotten rid of her cell phone. That and she hated that anyone could call her no matter where she was. She had gone back to a land line, though she did have a cheap cell for emergencies that only her family had the number to.

She looked up at the tree and realized that it hadn't been a tree she had walked into: it had been a person. She instantly felt a blush flood her face. Walking into a tree was one thing. Walking into a person was another thing entirely: though she did suppose that walking into a person was more excusable as people tend to move while trees don't. But of all people, why did it have to be _this _person.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't see you."

"I suppose not," Boromir replied. "I, however, did see you and I should have moved. The fault is mine."

It was everything she could do to keep her mouth closed. _He_ had just _apologized_ to _her._ Even though she had only known him a day, she had a feeling that he was one of those people that just didn't apologize. "Nah," she finally said. "I should have been watching where I was going. Here let me get out of your way so you can get to wherever it is you were going."

"I have reached my destination," he replied. "I offered to come find you. We are ready to leave and were waiting for you."

_They did send a search party,_ she thought with a smile. _ Is this world really so dangerous that they would worry that I was gone so short a time. Or do they think that I am just that inept._ Her smile faded with the last two thought. "OK," she replied. "Let's not make them wait any longer."

Boromir saw the smile cross her face and also saw it fade nearly as quickly. He wondered if that meant that she was disappointed that she had been unable to sneak away to meet with whomever she was supposed to report to or if there was some other cause for her sudden change. He suddenly knew that being nice to her was truly the correct course of action. While she was still suspicious of him for the time being, soon she would grow used to him. Then, she may make a mistake that will reveal her true purpose.

"Come," he said offering her a smile that he knew women had always liked in the past. "Let us return before they send anyone else and cause us to await their return as well.

Emily nodded. Even though she knew that he meant the smile to be reassuring something about it made her nervous. It made her feel like he wanted something else. Even though she wasn't sure what that something else _was_, she could guess. And she didn't like where that guess took her. Suddenly she was very glad for the fact that chivalry seemed to be the rule of the times. Even so, she was even gladder when they broke the cover of the trees and were back with the others.

"I'm sorry," she said to no one in particular. "I didn't mean to make you worry." Aragorn nodded in response before he picked up his pack and started walking. The rest followed suit, Gimli waiting until the rest, including Emily who decided to fix her hair while they walked, had started before bringing up the rear. Unlike yesterday, Boromir did not walk with Gimli, but rather stayed near Emily and the hobbits.

Gimli felt a little snubbed by the action. He couldn't believe that the man would change his allegiance simply because Gimli wanted to take the path through Moria. He especially couldn't believe that Boromir was spending time near a woman they both knew to be a spy. Gimli could find no reason for Boromir's sudden change except, perhaps, that Emily was an Elf-witch. She had bewitched Boromir. That was the only explanation. He would have to keep an eye on them both, from a distance of course. Who knew what the witch was capable of with a man as powerful as Boromir at her command?

Boromir could feel Gimli's eyes on the back of his head and kept glancing back at the Dwarf. He was unsure as to why the Dwarf was studying him so intensely, but he could only figure it was because up until this point the two of them had spent much of the trek walking together. He was sure that the Dwarf most likely attributed the sudden change to the frustration Boromir had shown to the repeated suggestions of Moria. The thought crossed his mind that he should, perhaps, explain the change to Gimli but he quickly decided against it. He did not know how good Emily's hearing was and he did not want to risk her discovering his plan. He knew as well that if he didn't do something, the Dwarf was likely to confront him and ruin everything.

It didn't go unnoticed by the others either. The tension between Boromir and Gimli was a nearly tangible thing. It was so oppressive that conversations were sporadic and short lived. Everyone was waiting with bated breath for the confrontation they could all sense was coming.

"What's up with them?" Emily eventually asked Pippin in an undertone. She didn't have to specify who "them" were. He knew _exactly_ who she was talking about.

"I'm not sure," Pippin replied. "I think it has to do with the 'discussion' we had yesterday about how to cross the mountains. Gimli wants to go through the Mines of Moria, Boromir wants to use the Gap of Rohan and everyone else wants to use the Pass. Well . . . not wants, but of the choices it is the one we prefer."

"If neither of them is getting their way, why are they mad at one another?" Emily asked confused.

"It could be because Boromir changed to support the pass once his idea was rejected this time," Pippin explained. Suddenly Emily understood. Gimli felt betrayed because now he was the only one whose idea was rejected since Boromir had ceded his position. She could understand his frustration. Especially since, much like with the apologizing, Boromir didn't seem like the kind of person who just gave up on an idea because he was told it was a bad one. That was one thing that she had always wondered about the fellowship. If all the people in it (save the hobbits) were leaders in their own right, how on earth did they ever settle disagreements? It seemed like the answer was "not very well."

"Why are you all still debating this?" she asked wondering just how long this debate had been going on. "Why isn't this already decided?"

"Well, it is, isn't it?" Pippin asked. "We're going to the pass. I don't see why they keep coming back to the issue."

"What if the pass fails?" Emily asked knowing that would be the outcome of their attempt.

"I suppose we'll decide that if it happens," he replied. After that, they lapsed back into silence and continued walking. For Emily, it was a pensive silence. She wondered if there was another way for them to go once the pass failed. There had to be a way that she could convince Gandalf that they didn't need to go to Moria. There had to be a way.

**ooOO88OOoo**

When they finally stopped for lunch, Emily was grateful for the opportunity to sit for a moment. She was also grateful for the piece of dried meat Aragorn handed her. It may not have been hot, but she was hungry and it was better than nothing. She also decided that she would take advantage of this opportunity to try to persuade Gandalf that there had to be a better path than Moria.

"Hey," she said once she was close enough that he would know it was him she was talking to. Once he looked up she continued, "Can I talk to you for a bit?"

"Of course, Emily," he replied and looked at her with interest as he waited for her to continue. She glanced quickly around and realized that the others were also listening intently.

"In private?" she specified. Gandalf nodded and stood walking into the woods with the expectation that she would follow him. She smiled at the confidence that radiated from the old man before she followed him. They walked much farther than she thought was necessary before Gandalf seated himself on a felled tree and patted the spot beside him.

"What was it you wished to discuss?" he asked. He sounded almost disinterested but the twinkle in his eyes told her otherwise. "You need not worry," he told her. "We are far enough that even the prying ears of curious hobbits will not catch your words."

She laughed and said, "I know that we're currently headed for the Pass. I also know that the Pass _will_ fail. Have you given any thought to what your second choice path is?"

Gandalf sighed. "I feared the path was a futile effort. Snow has already begun to creep down the shoulders of the mountains. Aragorn and I discussed this earlier. We decided that if the pass fails the only alternative we have would be to test the Mines of Moria."

"NO!" Emily replied her tone urgent. "We _can't_ use the Mines. There _has _to be another way."

"I understand that it is not a desirable path, but if it is the one we must take then we will take it," Gandalf said surprised at her sudden outburst.

"You don't understand," she said almost desperately. "_If _we go into the Mines, you will die."

Rather than respond as she had suspected and ask how she knew or if she was sure, Gandalf surprised her. He smiled sadly and shook his head with a humorless laugh. He placed a hand on her shoulder and his blue eyes looked into her brown ones. There was age and sorrow present there that even his form did not hint to.

"I know my fate if we attempt Moria," Gandalf finally said.

"But how?" She asked confused by this revelation. Why would he willingly go to his death? It made no sense especially if there were other paths they could potentially take.

He laughed, a short bitter sound. "Do you think you are the only one gifted with foresight?" he asked. "Elrond cautioned me against the dangers of Moria. He also told me that he could foresee no future in which I did not fall. This suggested to both him and me that my death is required for the greater plan of the Valar."

She was still confused. He had known all along that he was going to die? Why had he come then? What kind of person seeks out their own death? It just didn't make any sense.

"My dear," he said shaking her out of her thoughts, "I have lived an extremely long time. If my death will save this world from the dark, it is a price I will gladly pay."

She opened her mouth to tell him something. What she wasn't sure. She was either going to argue that he couldn't die or to reassure him that his death had a purpose, but she never got to do either. He silenced her with a raised hand.

"Child," he sighed, "I understand that you have a _knowledge_ of how things here are _supposed _to end, but your presence here will have an effect. Nothing is assured anymore. Because of this, I must ask you to promise me something."

She paused. Not only was she bristling a little at being called "child"—though she knew that compared to him _all_ of them were children, except perhaps for Legolas (she couldn't remember how old he was)—but she also knew that Gandalf had a habit of asking for difficult things.

"What is it?" she asked refusing to agree to anything before she had heard what she was agreeing to.

"You must promise me that you will tell no one else their fate. They must not know about events before they have happened," he said. The words were gentle, but there was steel under them that she didn't want to test. His gentle smile had also disappeared.

"I promise," she agreed quickly. She was unsure what he would have done if she had refused. At her words he nodded and smiled again.

"Let us return to the fellowship before they begin to worry," he said as he stood and turned to offer her a hand to aid her in standing.

She almost laughed at the absurdity of it. A man who was ancient by _any _standard was going to help her up. Instead, she took his hand a allowed him to lead her back to the others. They all were curious as to what had happened, thought the degree that they showed it varied from the open curiosity of the hobbits to the single raised eyebrow of Legolas. Both Emily and Gandalf ignored their questioning glances and prepared themselves for the next leg of the journey.

**ooOO88OOoo**

**Thank you to everyone who read this chapter. I hope that if you see something you either liked or hated you leave me a review :) I appreciate both equally :) **

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**Cursed Silence****: Thank you! And I'm glad that you think so . . . some of my professors beg to differ. . . gotta love science people. And I like to live dangerously. I want to see just how close I can come to the line without crossing over. And as long as she is still an enjoyable character, the occasional foray into Sue territory will probably be ok. I'm trying to come up with a good physical flaw. . . I'll see about getting one in there. And you by no means annoy me I really enjoy your reviews :) I've got it decided and so am I (not that I'm telling who she will end up with). And I'm glad that you liked the dialogue. And again . . . we'll just have to see where this all ends, eh? And I'm glad that I made you think about what I wrote. That is about the best compliment I have ever gotten :). And your English is fine and your tastes and opinions are no bother at all.**

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**Pollie****: I hate it when that happens too, be reading along a good story and realize that it was never finished even though it hasn't been updated in years. I'm glad that you enjoyed that interaction. It seemed like the perfect place to put that small step in. I just couldn't have them all love her. . . that **_**never **_happens when someone enters an existing group in real life. And no problem at all:) thank you for your review

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	8. The First of Many Changes

The fellowship finished their noon meal and began walking again soon after Emily and Gandalf had returned but walking in the wilderness gave everyone sufficient time for contemplation. And for most of the fellowship, this contemplation centered on their curiosity as to what had passed between Emily and Gandalf. Two members, however, were more than simply curious: they were suspicious.

For Boromir, their private conversation had initially aroused suspicion in him that Gandalf was a spy as well. His rational side had soon rejected this idea. There was no possibility that Gandalf was a spy for the enemy for where it so, with the power Gandalf possessed, the enemy would already have the Ring. No, he wasn't sure why they had needed to speak in private, but he was sure that Gandalf was not a spy. He would just have to keep an eye on each of them to determine the cause of their conversation.

In the case of Gimli, the issue of Gandalf being a spy had never crossed his mind and his suspicions were less easy to brush aside. He was worried that Emily had taken Gandalf aside as a way of pulling him under her spell as well. As he thought about it more, he realized that this was the only explanation that made sense. It explained why he was unaffected by her magic. It must require one-on-one contact to take effect. That explained why Boromir had changed so suddenly when he had returned from searching for her.

Gimli vowed that while he was watching Emily, Boromir and now Gandalf closely that he would avoid being alone with her. Though with Gandalf now potentially under her powers, she had become formidable enough that he was unsure there was a way to halt her and her master's conquest of Middle Earth. He would just have to be extra vigilant to prevent her from ensnaring the remaining fellowship members.

**ooOO88OOoo**

Gandalf sighed as the sun began to sink below the tops of the trees. He knew that he needed to make a decision about how he wanted to proceed. He needed to discuss a potential change of course with Aragorn, but before he could do so he needed to decide if a change of course was the best course of action. He couldn't decide. On the one hand, as he had told Frodo the night before, time was short. Could he, in good conscious, lead the others on a path that he knew was doomed to fail? However, what would the result be if he did not?

The more he considered the options, the more he came to realize that it was foolish to waste the time on a futile attempt on the mountain. The only rational course of action was to abandon the path to the pass in exchange for one of the alternate ways. As little as he liked the result of his musings, he knew that there was only one path left to them: the path through the Mines of Moria. All that was left to him now was to convince the others that this is the path they must take.

This was a task that he feared would be harder than the actual journey through the mines. Aragorn would prove a substantial obstacle. Not only had the Man been into the mines before, but he had overheard the conversation between Elrond and Gandalf as to the fate that awaited Gandalf in Moria. Legolas, too, had shown great reluctance to enter the mines, but Gandalf knew that if he could sway Aragorn that Aragorn could then aid him in convincing the Elf to go along.

It was with a heavy heart that he slowed his pace to bring himself abreast of Aragorn to attempt to persuade the Man to take the path that would seal his own doom. "I wonder," Gandalf said nonchalantly, "have you noticed how low the snow has come down the shoulders of the mountain?"

"I have," Aragorn replied, wondering what the wizard was getting at. "Either the weather is against us, or the habits of the mountains have changed since I was last here."

"It is most likely the first," Gandalf replied. "It seems that all that can be against us is."

"That is true enough," Aragorn laughed. "Thus far it has seemed that all that can go badly has done so."

"It has. And in light of that, should we test the mountain pass when the weather already appears to attempt to block our passage?" Gandalf asked looking at Aragorn out of the corner of his eye.

"You wish to abandon this course?" Aragorn asked. His tone and his face revealed his incredulity. Gandalf had been quite insistent that they at least try to cross the mountains this way. This sudden change made no sense, especially given what the alternative was. "Does you conversation with Emily have aught to do with this change of mind?"

Gandalf laughed in response to the Ranger's words. "Perhaps," Gandalf replied with a nod. "Regardless of what initially caused it, it has become clear to me that the attempt on the pass will fail. To attempt it despite this knowledge would be in error. We must use our alternative path."

"While I do not like this choice, it would be foolish to bring along a wizard and then doubt him when he is sure of something," Aragorn replied, his grey eyes sad. "You are the only one who can make this decision, my friend. Even if the attempt on the pass had failed, I would not have endeavored to force you to enter Moria. But if you are sure this is what we must do, none would think less of you if you chose to not accompany us through the mines. No man should be considered a coward if he chooses to turn away from what he knows to be his death. "

"That may be true," Gandalf replied with a sad smile. "But I am no man. I cannot turn away from this course, however much I may wish it."

Aragorn turned away from the wizard. Finally he sighed. "If this is the path you choose, I will follow you. You would not choose it if you did not have good evidence that it was necessary."

"Thank you," Gandalf replied with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "I will broach the discussion with the others tonight once we have eaten." It was with a heart that was both heavier and lighter at the same time that Gandalf retook his place in the head of the column of walkers.

**ooOO88OOoo**

It was full dark before they found a place that was suitable for making camp but Emily's observations about their fluidity in working together the day before were true. They were so practiced at making camp they could do it in the dark with little difficulty. As happened yesterday, Emily found herself standing in the middle of the flurry of activity with nothing to do. However, _unlike _yesterday, today she felt no need to prove herself. She was tired and allowed herself to sink to the ground. She sighed in relief at being able to get off her feet. She had never walked so much in her entire life, not in one go anyway. And she wasn't sure if it was the altitude or if her body was just rebelling, but ever since this morning, her depth perception had been off and she was glad to sit and not have to worry if that log up ahead was actually closer or further away than she thought it was.

_If they want me to do something, _she thought with a wry laugh, _they'll ask. If not, I can take a bit of a rest. Who knew that a hike up a mountain would be so exhausting?_

"So," an amused voice replied from behind her, "no vehement insistence that you need to be of assistance today?"

"Well . . ." she began uncomfortably. She hadn't expected anyone to call her out on it. Maybe request that she do something, but not call her out. "I . . . that is—"

"Worry not," Boromir replied with the same smile he had used earlier that had unnerved her so. He had misinterpreted her response and thought that it was due to being won over by him that had initiated her reaction. "There is no shame in feeling tired and desiring nothing more than to rest after a long day's march."

"Does that mean that you're tired as well?" Emily asked, sarcasm lightly coloring her tone. She expected him to respond in the typical macho fashion that would have been the answer to the same question at home. So she was surprised when he smiled genuinely and laughed a little.

"Of course," he replied. "We are climbing a mountain and I am a Man therefore Fatigue is an acceptable response. The important thing is that I am able to continue despite it. That is the true proof of strength, not the lack of feeling exhaustion but rather the ability to endure it."

Emily blinked a few times and opened and closed her mouth. Boromir was reminded of a fish he and his brother had caught once and smothered his laugh assuming correctly that she would not appreciate the comparison. Insulting her would not endear him to her in a way that was conducive to getting her to reveal her secrets.

Try as she might, Emily couldn't come up with anything to say in reply. She couldn't think up a snappy retort or anything equally philosophical to say. Luckily she was spared the humiliation of admitting that she had nothing by Aragorn.

"Come, Boromir," he said clapping the other man on the shoulder warmly. "We can discuss the qualities that define strength later. For now, there is work to be done that requires strength. That is, if you would like a warm meal this evening." Boromir nodded in reply and gave Emily a little half-bow and smile of apology before he turned and followed Aragorn into the woods.

Emily shook her head as he walked off. She just couldn't understand what was up with that man. One day she was pond scum and the next he was trying to be friends with her. She wasn't sure what his angle was, but she knew that he had one. She was also sure that she didn't trust this sudden change of heart to last. She was trying to figure out his motive when she felt something touch her shoulder and felt her heart attempt to jump out of her chest as Aragorn's words from the night before about the traditional nature of surprises in the wild flashed across her mind. She knocked the thing away and rolled away, intending to come up into a crouch but getting tangled in her dress—or so she told herself—and winding up in a heap on the ground looking into Legolas' shocked face with wide, terrified eyes.

Legolas saw the pensive expression on Emily's face and attributed it to the harsh words Boromir had spoken about her lack of offer of help this evening. As he moved towards her, his light steps provided her with no warning that he was coming. Even so, her shock as he tapped her shoulder surprised him. She truly needed to pay better attention to her surroundings. As an Elf, her senses _should_ be superior to those of a human—how superior Legolas was unsure as he had never experienced life as a human—and should have warned her of his presence if she was attentive and would have prevented her current position.

"I am sorry to have startled you," Legolas said forcing down his frustrations at her through sheer force of will. _She has just been magically transported to another place, _he thought to himself. _Perhaps she is still adjusting. Given time she may become more alert._ Or she may die, another portion of his mind added. He chose to ignore that last possibility.

"I merely meant to offer to allow you to accompany me while I search for a stream," he continued offering her a hand to help her up. "If you do not wish to do so I will understand." When she sighed deeply, he knew what her answer would be that she would rather not.

So he was more than surprised when she said, "What the hell. Safety in numbers, right? I suppose y'all tend to stick with the buddy system too." Once she had finished speaking, she took his hand and stood before dusting off her skirt and raising an eyebrow as though she were waiting on him to do something.

"Was that a 'yes'?" Legolas asked. Her words had confused him. Nowhere in her speech had he detected anything that even remotely resembled an acceptance of his invitation.

"Yep," she replied, popping the "p". "Let's do this." He nodded, his eyes still showing his confusion at her word choices. He shook his head and smiled indulgently before turning and walking into the woods knowing that she would follow him. He was strangely relieved that she had opted to accompany him, though he was unsure as to _why_ this relieved him. He had done the same task many times alone, and if they were by some strange chance attacked she would prove more a hindrance than an aid—as she had proved in her reaction to him—but he couldn't help but be pleased that she had accepted his offer.

Emily wasn't entirely sure why she had accepted it, and she wasn't sure if she was glad she had. She soon decided that she wasn't glad when she went to step over a felled tree and soon realized that the tree wasn't anywhere near her. She had just high-stepped in the middle of the woods for no apparent reason.

"Damn it," she muttered. Legolas looked at her in curiosity. He couldn't understand why she had lifted her leg like that, or why she was swearing. He was more confused when Emily tangled her hands in her hair and began to cry.

"Miss Emily," he said at a loss for how to comfort her since he had no idea what had upset her. "What happened?"

"I don't understand!" she growled in frustration. "I've been doing that _all _day! _Nothing_ is where it looks like it is and when I try to compensate for the change I'm _always _wrong."

"What are you trying to say?" Legolas asked. "Nothing is moving here other than us."

"That's the thing!" she said hysterically. She turned to him and grabbed his shoulders to look him in the face, her brown eyes wide and desperate. "Things _aren't_ moving. They are staying stationary and I can't tell how far away they are. They look so clear!" she released him and rubbed her eyes as though that would fix the problem.

Sudden understanding dawned on Legolas. Maybe his suspicions earlier were not that far off the mark. He just needed her to clarify her statement and then he would know. "Miss Emily," he said slowly and gently. "What do you mean? What looks clear?"

"Everything!" she yelled looking at him once more. "I can see every line, every crack every detail in everything for as far as I can see. It's not normal. Things should get less clear the farther away they are, that's how I know how far away something is. But this . . . I can't tell if it is 1 foot away or 100."

Legolas smiled in satisfaction. He had been right. Her senses were only beginning to realize the change the Valar had caused. "That is how I see the world," he said gently his eyes willing her to understand. "The way all Elves see the world. You will get used to it eventually."

"If things are this way because I'm an Elf," she snapped, "then why is it just now becoming an issue? I've been an elf for over twenty-four hours now. You'd think that it would have been an instantaneous change." Even as the words left her mouth she could see why it would take time. Only her molecular structure had been changed. Other than the ears, she still looked like her—she thought anyway since there were no mirrors she couldn't be sure—she still _thought_ like her. Maybe the delay had been caused by her brain and eyes needing to make new connections to be able to process the improved input. Like an HDMI cable rather than the old RCA cables.

"How long will it take?" she asked with a sigh. She felt strangely defeated and betrayed by her own body. This more than anything else proved to her that this was really happening. As long as nothing major about her had changed, she could pretend that it wasn't real but now . . . the truth was there for her to see, literally.

"Alas, that I cannot tell you," Legolas replied his ancient eyes filled with compassion. "I never had to adapt to this vision as I have had it since birth, as have everyone I know. All I can tell you is that with time you will grow accustomed to it. In time you may even come to appreciate the heightened senses the Valar have gifted you."

"Come," he said changing the subject. "I hear water flowing over this way." Emily followed cautiously behind him fighting the urge to drag her feet to keep from tripping over things. Ironically, though her vision had never been better, she had never felt blinder in her entire life.

**ooOO88OOoo**

Pippin was sitting next to Merry and Frodo chopping vegetables while Sam sat nearby cleaning the birds that Aragorn and Boromir had brought back with them when they returned with firewood a bit earlier. Gimli had already lit the fire for them and now the only thing that was delaying dinner was the question of whether there was fresh water nearby to make soup or if they were going to be roasting the meat on a spit. For while roasted poultry sounded appealing, there were only a few small birds that would by no means provide food for all ten of the fellowship members—especially when four of them were hobbits. If there was no water, this would prove to be a dilemma.

The question was soon answered when Legolas and Emily returned, full water skins in tow. At their return, Boromir stood and took the stock pot from near the fire and looked at Legolas in query.

"The stream is about 200 paces directly the direction we returned from," Legolas offered. Boromir nodded and wordlessly went the way the Elf had directed to fetch the water to cook dinner. Legolas did not watch him go, but rather carefully returned the water skins to their proper places before he stood and headed towards the fire. Emily followed behind him, blinking rapidly, a look of intense concentration on her face.

Once they reached the fire, Legolas sat himself on one of the larger logs that had been brought to feed the fire once it was hot and watched as Emily reached tentatively behind her before she allowed herself to sit. Despite this, she was too far forward and would have fallen had he not have grabbed her upper arm and steered her. If anyone else noticed her slip up, no one said anything.

"Thank you," she told him, looking like she was close to tears again. And she was. She had no idea what she was going to do. They were about to climb an icy mountain and she couldn't even see to sit on a log. If she didn't get a handle on this and fast, she was going to wind up walking right off a cliff.

_Well,_ she thought bitterly, _if I did that, it would prevent me destroying the timeline._ Feeling that she should try to do something other than wallow in her misery, she decided that she would put the hem into the cloak as she had been considering the night before. She retrieved the needle from her purse and a length of string.

After a few minutes, she let out a frustrated sigh that was almost a sob. With her messed up vision she couldn't manage to thread the needle, despite the fact that both the thread and the eye were _much _larger than what she was used to working with. Legolas put a gentle hand on her arm and took the needle and thread from her hands before deftly threading the needle and giving it back to her with a small smile.

She nodded her thanks and attempted to stop her tears of frustration before she bent her head and concentrated on putting a hem in the cloak without stabbing herself. Unlike her first error, this time everyone noticed—perhaps due to her sigh. She could feel their eyes on her and she didn't like it. She knew that she could just explain what was going on, but she was embarrassed that she couldn't even control her own body and didn't want everyone else to know too.

She looked up when she heard Legolas say something in Elvish from beside her and glanced at him to see what he had said. He didn't meet her eyes, but when she looked at the other members of the fellowship, Aragorn and Gandalf were looking at her with something akin to pity. She knew then what it was that Legolas had said. She straightened her back and ignored their glances as she continued her task.

Everyone who didn't understand Elvish wondered what Legolas had said and Pippin vowed to himself that he would ask her himself later if no one told him before then. There was a mystery here, and no self-respecting Took could allow a mystery to go unsolved.

**ooOO88OOoo**

Later that night, after they had all eaten and were beginning to settle for the evening, Gandalf knew that he had delayed as long as he could. The time had come to tell the others of the change of course. With a deep sigh, he looked into the fire to gather his thoughts before he spoke.

"My friends," he began slowly. "I have a matter of some importance that I wish to discuss with you." He waited until they were all looking at him before he continued. "Aragorn and I spoke earlier today and we are both agreed. The snow has come too far down the shoulders of the mountain too early this year. The pass is no longer a viable option." He paused after this statement to collect his thoughts and steel himself to say the words that would seal his doom.

"This leaves us with one path," he said taking another deep breath. "We must attempt the passage through the Mines of Moria. I know this is a path that many of you do not wish to travel. None will be forced to take the path under the earth that do not wish it. As Lord Elrond told you before we set out from Rivendell, you are all free to go your own way if you so choose. None of you, save Frodo, are bound by any obligation to continue. However, I will lead any of you that choose to follow. You need not decided at this moment. And no Man, Elf, Dwarf of Hobbit will be thought a coward if he chooses not to continue the quest."

Gandalf looked around the circle meeting the eyes of each of the members of the fellowship and seeing the confusion in all of them. Also present in many of their eyes was fear. They had been told for too long that Moria was the last alternative to be taken only when all other roads failed and now they were being told that they were to take it. They were right to be afraid. Again, Gandalf hoped that he was making the right choice in abandoning the Pass for the Mines.

**ooOO88OOoo**

**So, what did y'all think of this one. Sorry about the delay. Gotta love exams (total sarcasm). Anyway I hope that you have enjoyed this newest chapter. And I want to thank you in advance for any review you may leave (you will also get another, better, thank you later).**

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**Reader-anonymous-writer:**** I'm not sure why either, but I'm sure that I will come up with a darn good reason eventually. And don't worry. Emily is an idiot sometimes, but she's also pretty smart she'll figure out a way to get around that little promise ;) I'm sure of it. **

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**Firelord Lionheart:**** Thank you, I was trying to stick with their original characters, at least for now. Eventually folks may get a little OOC for cannon, but it will make sense in the context of this story. And thank you so much! I couldn't for the life of me remember Morgoth's name. I read the Silmarillion when I was in middle school, but that was a long time ago. I probably won't go back in and change it there, but it may come up again with a correction from someone else later :) again thank you so much!**

**Rock'xanne****: Thank you! I will keep updating until it is done, even if there is a bit of time between updates. And no promises, but I will say that Boromir is one of my favorite underappreciated characters ;).**

**As always thank you for reading this story. And now for a little shameless self-promotion, I have recently posted a story on fiction press under the same penname. So check it out if you have time or want to.**

**See you next time,**

**Stickdonkeys**


	9. Impotent Anger and Wounded Pride

Once Gandalf finished speaking, the others continued to stare at him in silence. They couldn't believe what was happening. Gandalf, who had argued so vehemently that they needed to at least _attempt_ to use the pass before they went through Moria, was now saying that they should skip the pass and enter the mines. Though some people reached the conclusion faster than others, eventually everyone realized that this change must have something to do with the conversation Emily and Gandalf had had earlier. They glanced at her, expecting to see a smile or some other sign of appreciation at Gandalf's words, but were surprised to see that her expression was blank. If they hadn't known better, they would have thought that she had no idea that Gandalf was going to change courses.

Emily could tell that the others were staring at her waiting for her to say or do something, but she couldn't. She was completely thunderstruck. The same person that had made her swear to not tell anyone anything that may change their actions was changing the course of the story. It crossed her mind that he was doing it just to prove to her what might happen if she did, but she couldn't see why he would do that. _Maybe arriving earlier will let us slip by the Balrog and keep Gandalf from dying,_ Emily thought hopefully. Even before she had met the cantankerous old wizard his death had always made her sad. Now, she wasn't sure how she would handle it. Even so she couldn't help herself from wanting to know _why_ he had decided to alter the story.

"Why?" she asked. "We should still at least try the pass."

"Did not you, yourself, tell me that the pass was doomed to fail?" Gandalf demanded. "Aragorn and I can both see the snow for ourselves and coupled with your assurances, there is no reason to attempt it. Tell me, would it be wise to waste time on an effort we know to be in vain before it is begun?"

"But—"

"Enough, Emily!" Gandalf said, his beard and eyebrows bushing out. He disliked snapping at her, but he had made the decision that he felt was best for the fellowship at large. If she continued arguing against his decision, he feared that he would change his mind again and decided to attempt the pass and in the process risk the quest.

"No!" she snapped, ignoring the warning in his tone. "This is stupid. You know that if we enter Moria—"

Emily stopped speaking abruptly, her words cutting off in a choking sound. She felt as though her throat had closed up. She tried again to the same result. Suddenly she knew what the promise she had made to Gandalf had _truly _meant. This wasn't a promise that she could break if the need arose, it was magically binding. She glared at Gandalf feeling anger sear her veins. She couldn't believe that he would trick her like that.

"What'll happen in Moria, Gandalf," Pippin asked in a small voice.

"Nothing that would not have otherwise come to pass," Gandalf replied gently. "The fellowship will pass through the mountains and continue the quest."

At this half-truth, Aragorn looked at him sharply, but said nothing. He understood that Gandalf knew that the others would never agree to a path that was sure to lead to his death and that for the quest to succeed they needed to agree to use it. He also noticed that Gandalf seemed almost smug in the face of Emily's seething. He wondered what else had been said during their discussion that afternoon.

He wasn't the only one. Her reaction to Gandalf's words had convinced the others that she hadn't known what would be said. Gimli was particularly confused. While he didn't want to believe that the Mines of Moria were a place of evil, the fear the others held for it made him question his certainty. Also, he knew that Emily had something to do with Gandalf's change of heart. Since she did not want to go through them either, that either meant that she was not evil and the mines were or that she was evil and the mines were not. Neither possibility was one he truly wanted to be reality. Regardless of the reality of the situation, he would follow Gandalf into Moria.

After Gandalf's words to Pippin, the fellowship had once again lapsed into silence as each member though through the choice before them. Eventually the silence was broken by Boromir. He had been thinking and eventually came to the decision that if the path through Moria was one that Emily did not want them to take it was truly the best way they could go. He thought that perhaps if he voiced his support for it, the others would be swayed to follow suit and she would be thwarted.

"I know none have asked for declarations of intent," he said no hesitancy evident in his voice, "but I feel that I must give mine. When you opted to lead us over the mountains I said that I would follow you, though I disagreed with your choice. Nothing has now changed. I will still follow you. I, for one, intend to see this quest through to the end."

"As shall I," Frodo said, though fear was present in his voice. He looked up at Gandalf with trusting eyes before he continued. "I do not know the land here, and if you say this is the only way then I will trust you. We have to cross the mountains somehow before we can come to the end."

Boromir and Gandalf both smiled at Frodo. They knew that the younger hobbits would follow his lead and that since Frodo was convinced that the others would also agree to the change of course. And they were not disappointed; soon the chorus of agreement came from the hobbit portion of the fellowship.

"You all know how I feel about the Mines," Gimli said gruffly. "My opinion has not changed. I will be glad to look upon the halls of my fathers and visit my cousin. I will gladly walk into Moria with you and insure that you are given a proper welcome by the Dwarves that dwell therein."

Aragorn sighed and shook his head before he said, "I do not share in your enthusiasm, Gimli, but I, too, will tread the path through Moria. I feared that we would be forced to come this way, though I had hoped things would turn out otherwise."

"I do not wish to go," Legolas said slowly. "There are many things I would rather endure before I would willingly submit to a path under the earth. However I will not abandon the quest merely to avoid a bit of discomfort. I will come as well."

Emily had been staring into the fire during all these declarations trying to remember _exactly_ what it was that Gandalf had said that afternoon. She couldn't seem to remember, but she knew that she needed to. It was the only way that she was going to have any chance of finding a loop hole that would allow her to change things when she needed to. She had the strange feeling that everyone was watching her and looked up to see what was happening. The other members of the fellowship were looking at her expectantly.

"Oh, my turn?" she asked sheepishly. She hadn't realized that there was a _requirement_ to make a declaration just because someone else had. "I . . . um . . . well, I suppose that . . . well it's not like I really have a choice, do I? If the rest of you are decided, I kinda have to come with you. So I guess I'm in."

"Very eloquently put," Gandalf replied, obviously stifling a laugh at her strange word choice and the looks of shock and confusion on the faces of the others. "For now, we are all decided that we will test the Mines of Moria together. There are four days marches before we reach the gates of Moria. Remember that even though you have agreed tonight, if you change your decision between now and then you are free to go your own way."

Everyone understood that there was an unspoken clause on the end of that sentence that went, "unless you are Emily or Frodo, and then you are coming with us whether you like it or not." Or at least that was how Emily heard it, especially with the look he was leveling at both her and Frodo. Again she felt anger at the wizard course through her. First he forced her to travel with them and then he decides to metaphorically tie her hand to prevent her from making changes and goes and makes them himself. She wondered briefly if the spell would break when he died. Not that she wanted him to dies, but since it was sure to happen she was just curious.

"It is late," Gandalf said. "And we have much ground to cover tomorrow. I would suggest you all take advantage of the time to rest while you are able. I shall take first watch tonight. I wish the rest of you a pleasant night." There was a flurry of activity at his final words as everyone prepared for sleep and Gandalf separated himself and began the watch. It was eventually decided that Frodo, who had second watch, would sleep on Gandalf's bedroll until his watch was up and Emily would take Frodo's—after she reassured them that this would be fine since she tended to sleep curled up anyway.

Once the arrangements were made, it took no time for the camp to be filled with the sounds of sleep. Emily found that Aragorn had been right the night before, despite the fact that this ground was no less rocky of any softer she soon felt herself begin to drift into sleep. Soon, the only person left awake was Gandalf, keeping his silent vigil and attempting to remember happier times. He could only agonize over his decisions for so long and he did not want his last days on this earth to be spent in despair.

**ooOO88OOoo**

The rest of the night was uneventful, or at least it was as far as Emily knew. She slept straight through until she was awakened the next morning by Boromir. She flinched away from him until her eyes focused enough for her to recognize him. Once the adrenaline began to fade she realized that she actually felt pretty good for having slept on the ground.

_Maybe Aragorn was right,_ she thought with a smile. _Maybe I will get used to this eventually. And if Boromir will keep scaring the life out of me in the morning, I won't even miss coffee that much 'cause for a pick-me-up in the morning, adrenaline trumps coffee. _

He watched her a moment to make sure that she was actually awake. He knew that Elves sometimes only appeared to be awake. Once she sat up and began to stretch, he was satisfied that she was truly awake and turned to wake Pippin, who was sleeping nearby. He looked up as Emily walked past him and headed towards the woods.

"Do not go far," he called to her. She turned to look at him, confusion in her eyes. "We will leave soon," he explained. "And time is short. We cannot search for you every morning."

When he had first spoken, she turned to look at him, wondering if the concern that she heard in his voice was for her well being. She nodded at his next words and realized that she was being stupid. The man hated her, strange behavior the day before to the contrary. There was no reason that he would be worried about her. He would probably be glad if disappeared. With this final thought, she gave him a sad smile and nodded to show that she understood before she continued into the woods.

As she walked, looking for a place to take care of business, she wondered why she cared what he thought about her anyway. She had spent most of her life doing what she wanted without thinking about what others thought about it. Why did the animosity of this one man bother her so much? It wasn't like he didn't have a good reason to not trust her. _Besides, _she thought, _I've got bigger things to worry about. Like how the hell to figure out this damned vision __**before**__ we get into Moria. And I've only got four days to do it._

Once she finished, she thought briefly about walking to the stream to rinse her hands before she rejected the idea. It was on the other side of the camp from where she currently was. She knew that she could never get to the stream and back before the others were ready to leave and she could just see the looks on their faces if she cut through camp on her way and said, "sorry y'all. Just going to hold up the quest to save the known world so that I can maintain some semblance of sanitation. Be right back, I swear." _Yeah, that would go over __**real **__well_, she thought sarcastically before setting off to return to camp "smoothing" her skirt as she did.

When she got back to camp, she discovered that she had been right. The others were all packed and stood waiting for her and the last of the stragglers—Merry and Pippin—who broke the cover of the trees on the opposite side of the clearing from her at the same time as she did. As soon as they were all assembled, the march began. The angle they traveled relative to the mountains was a little different that it had been the day before. Emily sighed and pulled out her brush, figuring that she might as well re-braid her hair since there wasn't much else to do—other than try not to trip over things and braiding her hair wasn't going to damage her ability to do that.

It wasn't until she had finished and was about to put the elastic back on that she decided it may not have been a good idea to mess with it. She was almost done when the elastic broke where it had been welded together and smacked her in the arm. She swore at it under her breath before dropping the broken thing into her bag and glancing up to make sure that she had time to dig another one out before there were any obstacles in her path. There was a rock outcropping about a foot in front of her that she would need to step over. With this in her mind, she looked into her purse and took a couple more steps before she took a higher step than she normally would have to step over it while she continued searching. Just as she found another, she felt her foot catch on something and felt a small squeak leave her mouth as she realized that she was falling. Unlike the last time she fell, this time she hit the ground and skidded across the forest floor skinning the palms of her hands.

"Now there's something you don't see every day, isn't it, Mr. Frodo?" she heard Sam remark to her increased mortification. "I didn't know Elves ever tripped, did you?"

"No, Sam," Frodo responded. "I have never heard of an Elf tripping. But I have not had much experience with them. Perhaps we have never heard it because that is not the kind of thing that makes it into tales of great deeds."

"No, I'd say not," Gimli replied, a deep laugh rumbling in his chest. "That would not continue in the retelling, unless of course they managed to kill something during their fall, and then it would be retold that the fall had been intentional."

"Of course that would be how it would be retold. Elves have a long memory for tales. Would you forever like to be remembered as the Elf who slew an orc by accident?" Legolas replied looking over his shoulder at the dwarf with a small smile. As little as he liked his race being the butt of a joke, he could see the reason for their amusement. From the time most Elves could walk with any kind of proficiency they were graceful. He had never seen any but the smallest of elf-children trip, especially not over so little of a thing. He also knew that such a small fall would not have injured her and that she would not welcome his interference in such a matter.

"I suppose not," Gimli replied wondering if he had misjudged the Elf. Perhaps he did have a sense of humor after all. Though a sense of humor alone was not enough to make him forget the indignity that his father had suffered at the hands of the Mirkwood elves. But maybe it was enough to hint at more redeeming qualities the Elf might yet reveal.

Throughout this conversation Emily had remained on the ground hoping that it would open up and swallow her whole. She couldn't believe that she had just done that. The others just walked past her, seeing no blood they assumed that she was fine and would soon stand and continue walking. For a moment she considered just staying right there and letting them leave her behind. At least that way she wouldn't have to watch as they died one by one without being able to change things.

"Are you injured?" Boromir asked, breaking her out of her musings. She looked up at him, surprised to see what almost looked like concern in his eyes. But she supposed that it made sense. She was a woman and if nothing else these were very chivalrous men . . . or at least that was what she had thought _before___they just walked off and left her.

"Just my pride," she replied with a wry smile. "Physically I'm fine."

He laughed before offering her his hand. "Wounds of the pride are oft times the hardest to heal," he said with a smile.

"Don't I know it," she mumbled. She had had lots of practice at healing wounded pride back home. She had always been one of those people that couldn't walk and chew gum at the same time. She halfway hoped that her balance would improve in time like her vision apparently was. With a sigh, she took his hand and allowed him to help her to her feet.

"Thank you," she said giving him a sheepish smile. He was pleased to see her smile. It seemed that it was a genuine smile. To him, it was sign that she was beginning to trust him. With a little more kindness from him she would soon be telling him everything that she knew.

"No thanks are required," he replied. "I would have prevented you from falling had I have known that you would trip over it. Did you not see the rocks?"

"Oh, I saw them," she said with a self-depreciating laugh. She bent slightly to attempt to dust off her dress where her knees had contacted the earth before the two of them continued walking.

"If you saw them," Boromir asked slowly, "why, then, did you not step over them?" He could see no logic in it, unless her goal had been to elicit sympathy from the members of the fellowship. If that was the case, she had failed. The others had not even reacted to her fall, though he didn't blame them. Was he not attempting to win her over, he too may have allowed her to recover from her embarrassment in her own way.

"Because even though I see them, I don't _see _them," she explained. "Do you understand?" One look at his face answered her question for her. He didn't understand. She sighed before she tried again. "Ok, you know how I was human a couple of days ago?" He nodded so she continued. "Well, apparently there was a bit of lag time between my body changing and my brain catching up. My vision has started to change and I'm not handling it well."

"You are saying that your eyes are those of an Elf and your mind is that of a human and the two do not function properly together?" He said slowly attempting to make sense of what she had said. If what she was saying was true, it was complicated the situation further_. It makes no sense_, he thought, _that an agent of the enemy would be forced to adapt to a new body, the enemy has not that kind of power_. _Unless it is a contrived statement to make her appear less threatening. Why then would she allow herself to fall?_ For the first time, the thought began to cross his mind that perhaps she was not a spy and that the things she had told them were in fact truth. With that though came the inkling that perhaps he had made the wrong choice in adding his voice in support of the journey through Moria. If she was not aligned evil then any place she did not want to go would probably be evil. He pushed these thoughts out of his mind. There were too many "if then's" for his taste. Only time would tell if he had erred in his assessment of Emily and thereby made a poor choice.

**ooOO88OOoo**

**Here we are all, a new chapter. As always, thank you for taking the time to read it. I hope you enjoyed it and I would love to hear what you think! Leave me a review if you have time, all types are welcome as all views are valid.**

**And a special thank you to everyone who added this story to either their alerts or favorites. I truly appreciate it :)**

**And an extra special thank you to:**

**Angel Bells****: I feel a little sorry for her too, but you can't just go changing races and bounce back like it's nothing. :( And she probably will . . . can't kill her off **_**that**_** quickly now can I? (Not saying that I am going to kill her, but you know what I mean. Going into the mines with wonky vision would be a death sentence.) And Aragorn at least won't because he overheard the conversation between Gandalf and Elrond and knows that Gandalf is destined to die in Moria. The others . . . well we'll just have to see what happens.**

**Ilovelotr:** **Thank you! And yep, though there are a couple more changes before we get there. ;) Keep reading if you want to see what they are.**

**Reader-anonymous-writer:**** Thank you :)**

**As I said above, I hope you enjoyed it. See you next time,**

**Stickdonkeys**


	10. Hot Springs and Howls in the Dark

**A brief synopsis of the last chapter: Gandalf and the Fellowship decided that they would not try to cross the Misty Mountains via the Pass and instead take the path through the Mines of Moria and Emily continues to have issues with her vision as she attempts to adjust to her new body. Also Boromir and Gimli are beginning to question the assumptions they have made about other members of the fellowship.**

**ooOO88OOoo**

The rest of the day was mostly uneventful. Somehow Emily had managed to finish the day's march without tripping over anything else. She was feeling rather accomplished. That is until she tripped over Sam's pack and into Legolas as they were setting up camp. She had almost recovered on her own, but he placed a hand on her arm to assist her.

"Is it not becoming easier to determine the location of objects?" Legolas asked after he was sure that she was steady again.

"Actually it is," she replied. "That's the first thing I have tripped over since this morning. And this time it wasn't a depth perception issue, I caught my foot on something hanging off the bag." The expression on his face gave her the impression that he didn't believe her and his next words solidified it.

"If you are still having problems when we arrive at the Gates of Moria," he said, "perhaps it would be best if you—"

"If I what?" she demanded, her tone incredulous. "Take the _other_ path across the mountains? I'm stuck with y'all. When we reach Moria, wonky vision or no, I _have_ to come with you. Remember?"

"Yes, I remember," he replied, his tone and expression torn between amusement and annoyance. "However, an alternate path was _not_ what I was going to suggest." Amusement won as his predominate emotion as she at least had the decency to look ashamed. It was hard for him to bear in mind sometimes that even though she appeared to be an Elf that had attained maturity, she truly was still a child. He would wager that she would not have attained maturity in any race other than Human.

Her youth was even more apparent to him in the way that she refused to meet his eyes as a blush rose to color her cheeks. It roused his curiosity and unlike Aragorn, he was not content to let the question go unanswered in favor of maintaining the riddle.

"Miss Emily," he asked gently, unsure if he was about to offend her, "how many winters have passed since you were born?" Her eyes widened in shock and he knew then that it had been an inappropriate question.

Emily blinked at him owlishly. She didn't understand how they had gotten from what she should do in Moria to how old she was. _And my friends say I have weird transitions,_ she thought with a laugh before she began to attempt to answer.

"Well," she said slowly. "That's not quite how we figure age at home. I was born in September and at home it's October . . . so . . ." she paused and her brow furrowed as she tried to think through the math before she gave up with a frustrated sigh. "I'm not sure how many winters have passed, but I just celebrated my twenty-third birthday about a month ago."

Even though he had known she was young, hearing the words leave her mouth shocked him. Only twenty-three. She truly was a child, were she actually an elf she would be about half-grown. Even Pippin, who Elrond had been loath to send due to his young age, was older than Emily. There was nothing to be done about it at this point, however. As she had already said, she was required to travel with them for the time being. He just couldn't believe that the Valar had pulled such a young woman into the middle of a war.

"Are you ok?" Emily asked, laying a hand on his arm. After she had answered his question he had looked at her like she had slapped him and then grown a second head. She wasn't used to receiving that response to her age; twenty-three was quite a respectable number back home. When she spoke, he seemed to regain control of himself.

"Of course," he replied, a gentle smile on his face. "We had better begin our search for water," he continued, effectively changing the subject again. "The hobbits are wont to become irritable if there is no warm meal."

"Ok," she said with a shrug and bent to collect some of the half-full skins before she followed him into the woods. She was content to let the subject drop even though she didn't understand why it had upset him. They walked in a kind of silence that was both comfortable and uncomfortable at the same time with tension that was nearly palpable. But neither of them would be the first to break it and begin the discussion again since neither knew what to say.

After they had been walking a couple of minutes, they both heard the sound of running water, nearly at the same time. Emily turned her head towards the sound, confusion apparent on her face when she realized that she couldn't see the water even though it sounded as though it was right there. Wondering how she was able to hear something so clearly from so far away, she began moving towards it.

Legolas saw her reaction and smiled to himself. Now that he knew her age, her wonder as she discovered new things made more sense: she had not lived long enough to become jaded. He knew that he should probably explain to her that she was beginning to sense the world as an Elf does, but decided that it would be better to allow her to figure it out for herself. Soon, they broke through the tree cover and came upon a small clearing.

Here, the stream that they had heard flowed into a pool that appeared to have been constructed intentionally. It was nearly perfectly round and lined with stones. In the middle water bubbled up from a spring. Strangely, the water appeared to be steaming in the cool mountain air. Emily walked up to it and knelt before sticking her hand in. She looked back at him in confusion as the warm water engulfed her hand.

"It's warm," she said. "Is it magic?" She wasn't entirely sure if magic was capable of creating a heated pool in the middle of nowhere, or who would have done it if it was but she couldn't think of another explanation.

At her innocent question, Legolas laughed. "No," he replied humor still in his voice. "It is most likely a hot spring, they are rare in this location but they do exist. Though I had not heard of one near the Mines of Moria."

"But don't hot springs require volcanoes?" Emily asked. Geography and Geology had never been her strongest subjects in school, but she seemed to remember that there was a correlation.

"I do not know," Legolas replied with a shrug. "However, I cannot see the purpose of such a thing being done by magic and there does appear to be a spring in the middle of the pool. Also there is cold water entering from the stream that may serve to cool the water from the spring."

Emily, however, could see the point of doing something like this by magic. She could also see a use for this anomaly, be it magical or natural. Whether she had a change of clothes or not, she _was_ going to have a bath that evening.

**ooOO88OOoo**

Once they returned to camp, it was everything that Emily could do to stand there patiently while Legolas carefully returned the now full skins to their places. She was so excited by the prospect of a bath that she was nearly bouncing in place.

Legolas had noticed her excitement, but he could see no cause for it. All they had done was locate a warm pool in the middle of the wilderness. As that thought crossed his mind, he felt a small smile grace his face as he realized why she was so excited and wondered why he had not realized the use the pool could be put to. While he contained his anticipation better, the prospect of a bath pleased the prince of Mirkwood nearly as much as it did Emily, if not more.

As soon as he took the last skin from her, she rushed away without even waiting for thanks. He smiled as he watched her run to the fire where the hobbits were preparing to cook dinner. He was glad to see how happy such a small thing could make her and hoped that she didn't change during the course of their travels. Such delight at the little things was too rare in this world, especially among his own people.

"Emily seems happier," Aragorn said quietly from beside him. "You did not have something to do with that, did you, my friend?"

Hearing a double meaning in the Man's words, Legolas turned to face Aragorn. Though he smiled, the fact that it did not quite reach his eyes and the strange tone under his words confused Legolas. He believed that he understood the implication, but he could not believe that Aragorn would think that he would take advantage of a child.

"I do not understand your meaning," Legolas said anger lightly coloring his words. "Of course I would give her cheer if I could. Why would you object to such a thing?"

"She is young," Aragorn replied his worry for them both coming through in his words. "And she has no one in this world. I would hate to see her seek companionship in the face of her loneliness and come to regret it. In the end, that would hurt you both."

"Yes," Legolas replied, deciding that he would put an end to this misunderstanding. "She is young, and alone. But she will get no companionship—at least not the kind that you are speaking of—from me. And I believe that she does not seek it from me. She is excited because we found a pool in which we can bathe."

At the shocked look on the Man's face Legolas felt a laugh bubble up his throat. Aragorn had truly believed that Legolas would bed the girl after so little time together. Rather than be angered, Legolas was amused.

"I thought you knew me better than this," Legolas laughed. "I thought you knew _Elves_ better than this. Think of how long your courtship with Arwen has lasted. Elves do not lightly give themselves to others, even if the others are Elves. No matter how much she desired me, or I her, I would not have taken her to bed after a mere three days."

"I offer my sincerest apologies, Legolas," Aragorn replied. "I do not know why I assumed the worst."

"There are no apologies needed, my friend," Legolas answered, placing a hand on the Man's shoulder. Aragorn smiled sadly and looked as though he wished to say something more, but his reply was cut off by an explosion of sound from the fire.

"It appears that Emily told the hobbits of the pool," he observed with a small smile.

"Aye," Legolas replied attempting to break the tense atmosphere with humor. "Will you be the one to tell them that we will have to bathe in waves, or shall I?"

"That is a challenge that I do not wish to undertake," Aragorn said with a mock grimace. "Hobbits only hold one thing in higher regard than a warm bath and that is food. I will not be the one to come between them and a bath anymore than I would come between them and a meal."

"Perhaps, then, we should allow Mithrandir to accept the task," Legolas suggested. The mental image of a stern Mithrandir turning the hobbits away from the pool like naughty children attempting to leave their beds caused Legolas to smile. A smile that faded as he say the sadness in the grey eyes of Aragorn.

Aragorn noticed his curiosity and gave him a sad smile before he shook his head and said, "Worry not. It is nothing." When he had finished speaking, he turned and walked into the woods alone. Despite his words to the contrary, Legolas knew that what he had said about Mithrandir had upset the Ranger. He wondered what Aragorn knew about the wizard that he did not.

**ooOO88OOoo**

The rest of the fellowship was oblivious to the tense discussion that had just taken place between the Ranger and the Elf. They were too elated at the prospect of a bath to take notice of a hushed misunderstanding. The excitement in the air around the fire was such that most of the hobbits were more than willing to let dinner simmer on the fire for a while and bathe instead of diving right in.

"But we can't leave the food," Sam protested. "The fire is too high and the bottom of the soup will burn."

"Sam," Pippin said as though reasoning with a child, "the soup will be fine. We can just move it away from the center and it will stay warm but not burn."

"Besides," Merry chimed in, "we won't all be going at the same time. Someone has to stay and watch the camp. They can give it a stir every now and then."

"I can do it," Emily offered knowing that as much as she wanted a bath, they probably wanted one more. It had to have been longer since their last bath than it had been since hers.

Sam eyed her warily. It didn't sit well with him that she offered to take care of the food for the second time in three days. He still wouldn't put it beyond her to poison them all. This pool of hers could just be a convenient way to get rid of him long enough to do it.

Misinterpreting his distrust of her as disbelief in his abilities to do it she said, "I'm sure that I can manage stirring a pot."

"Perfect!" Frodo crowed clapping Sam on the shoulder. "See, Sam, the problem of the food is solved and now we can have a bath! I knew today would end well. Come, Sam. Let's take a bath."

Sam glowered slightly at the decision, but didn't argue with Frodo. Others would be in the camp with her and would keep an eye on her. She would not risk doing anything under the watchful eyes of Gandalf. Or so he hoped. Even so, it was with a last worried look over his shoulder that he followed Frodo, Merry and Pippin to the pool grabbing his pack so that he would have clean clothes once he was done.

Once the hobbits had left, the others wondered how they would decide the order for the rest of the baths. While they had all seen one another in relative states of undress during the quest and could all logically bathe together to save time, there were problems with that arrangement: namely that there was still a fragment of mistrust within the company directed both at Emily and at each other.

Eventually, it was decided that they would take turns so that there was a modicum of privacy to the bathing process and so that a few of them could stay at camp at any given point. But this still left the problem of _how_ to decide the order in which these private baths would go. They could not do it by rank, since many of the company were equally ranked—and they were unable to determine a rank for Gandalf. Eventually they decided that they would order it by age with the oldest members of the company getting priority. This gave the order for baths as Gandalf, followed by Legolas, and then Gimli, and then Aragorn, and then Boromir, with Emily bringing up the rear.

Not everyone was entirely happy with this arrangement, but it was the only way that they could think of that made the most sense. Boromir in particular had an objection to the order. He did not resent his placement in the order, but rather Emily's. This order would place her taking her bath well after dark. They were now only a day's walk from Moria and there were crevices nearer than that. The Misty Mountains were well known to harbor orcs. Once true dark fell, it would be dangerous for any of them to be far from camp, let alone a woman with no means of defending herself. Despite his misgivings, he did not voice his opinion. It wouldn't do to let the others see that he was considering her safety, especially when he did not understand his concern himself. Instead, he sat watching the fire as he awaited his turn to bathe.

**ooOO88OOoo**

After what seemed like forever, Emily's turn finally came. While she waited, she had tried to decide on the best way to ask to borrow a change of clothes for the night. She had finally decided that the direct approach would be the best route, and that she would ask once Boromir had returned. She figured that he would be in a better mood after a bath.

Even so, when he returned to camp she felt like her throat had closed. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and cleared her throat. Realizing that she wanted to say something, the rest of the fellowship looked up as well.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I know that I'm always needing something from y'all. Or at least that's what it seems like to me." She shifted uncomfortably before she continued. "And I feel really stupid having to ask this but . . . well. . . I don't exactly have any extra clothing . . . or soap . . . or anything really. Is there any chance that I can borrow something from anyone to wear until my dress dries?"

A brief pause followed her words during which Emily felt _incredibly_ stupid for even bothering to ask. She should have known that she was not on the sharing-clothes level of friendship with any of them. "You know what, never mind," she said sheepishly walking towards the woods. "I'll figure something out."

"Wait," Pippin called. "Don't you want soap?" She turned to look at him and saw him digging in his pack before he held the bar of soap aloft triumphantly. He nodded at her before tossing it in a gentle arc. She caught it and smiled at him.

"Thanks," she said. He just nodded to acknowledge her thanks but said nothing else.

"It will be nowhere near warm enough," Aragorn said suddenly, "but I believe that I may have a spare shirt you can use for the evening."

"That would be wonderful," Emily said feeling grateful tears begin to form in her eyes. Tears that she quickly blinked away. Even though she knew that it was only a shirt, the fact that he would even try meant more to her than she could express. Up to this point, she had been too worried about what was had happened and what was still happening to be homesick, but at these little shows of kindness she began to miss her friends and family more than she thought she could bear.

As he handed her the shirt, she realized that he understood what she was feeling. She could see it in his eyes. He was homesick too. She smiled up at him and decided that she would do something nice for him; she just wasn't sure what it would be yet.

"I would lend you a pair of pants as well, but I am afraid they would not fit you," he said with a smile.

"No," she said with a laugh. "They probably wouldn't. Your legs are much longer than mine. Heck, your shirt may be long enough to be a dress."

"That may be true," Boromir said, his ears flushing slightly at her words. He was unsure what could be classified as a dress in her world, but at most Aragorn's shirt would come to her knees and that was not a dress in this one. "However, if the shirt is only a summer weave you will freeze to death tonight if you attempt to use it as a dress. It would be better if you would consent to wear these." As he finished speaking he handed her a folded pair of pants made of a soft cloth.

"They will also be too large, but perhaps they will fit better than his would have," Boromir offered with a smile. Unlike his others, this one did not cause her to feel uncomfortable. She returned it with one of her own and a nod of thanks.

She was truly glad that he had offered because she wasn't sure she was brave enough to ask him directly. And while he was still taller than her, the difference in their heights was less than the difference between her and Aragorn. She would only have to roll his pants a couple of times to be able to wear them without walking on them. And while he was broader than she was, she could gather the extra fabric with a bobby pin from her purse.

As she walked away, Aragorn glanced at Boromir, wondering at the change that had come over him in so short of a time. Despite the younger man's efforts to conceal it, his worry for Emily was present in his eyes. He seemed to be fighting a battle within himself. Then, with a sigh, he had apparently made his decision.

"Emily," he called at her retreating figure. She turned to face him, confusion on her face at being called back so suddenly. She hoped that he hadn't changed his mind about letting her borrow his pants. Despite what she had said, she really wasn't looking forward to wearing only a shirt in the mountains in winter.

She was surprised at the tension in his voice as he continued speaking. "If anything happens, do not hesitate to call us. We cannot have you dying before we figure out why you are here," he finished in a more gruff manner as he realized that everyone was looking at him in surprise.

"Thank you," she replied with a wry smile, amused by his last words. "I'll keep that in mind."

He nodded and she turned to go. Once she wasn't looking, he ran a hand through his damp hair and fought the urge to demand to know why the others continued to look at him. He was especially irritated by the knowing looks he was receiving from Aragorn and Legolas. Nearly as galling however was the accusatory look Gimli was directing at him. He could not understand why they were so interested in the protective behavior that the future Steward of Gondor showed to a woman. It was to be expected from a man of his station towards a female in the wild. There was nothing more to it. Or at least that was what he was trying to convince himself.

Even if a part of Boromir was still confused by his actions, to Emily they made perfect sense. Just that morning she had told herself that chivalry was the rule of the time. Reminding her, as a woman, to scream if there was trouble rather than try to fight it off herself made perfect sense to her. _At least they're going to let me have my bath in peace,_ she thought shivering slightly at the alternative.

Even though she knew that none of them would attempt to follow her due to the chivalric code—and the fact that none of them had any interest in her _that way_—it was with a bit of discomfort that she removed her clothing and slipped into the water. She had never been naked outside before. A situation that was made more awkward by the fact that not more than 200 yards away there were nine men that she had only known for three days.

Even with these two factors, the call of the bath would not be silenced. Pushing away her misgivings she attempted to settle in and enjoy the feeling of getting clean. She also discovered that Legolas had been right. The pool was heated by a hot spring in the middle—or so she guessed since the water was hotter near the spring than at the edges. Despite how good the water felt on her skin, Boromir's words echoed in her mind, reminding her that this was not a vacation pool but a brief bit of pleasure in the middle of dangerous territory. With this in mind, she decided to wash herself and her clothes as quickly as she could and still be assured that everything was clean.

The soap was strange and grittier than what she was used to. It was also unscented and only mildly frothy. Even so, it accomplished the purpose and soon her skin shone clean in the moonlight. She debated briefly with herself about how to wash her hair, but then decided that the soap would have to serve that purpose as well. She only hoped that it would be even remotely manageable in the morning.

After another little mental debate, she pulled her clothes into the pool with her as she had no interest in staying in the cold longer than she had to before she could return to the warmth of the fire. She had only just begun washing her dress when she thought she heard the faint sound of a dog howling in the distance. She felt her heart leap into her chest when she heard a second howl—nearly as faint but in a different direction—answer it. Realizing that the odds of two dogs being as far in the wild as the others swore that they were were slim, her mind quickly began conjuring up images of what else they might be. The first image that came to mind were the giant hyena looking things from the movie . . . Wargs, she thought they were called.

Right on the heels of that thought came the idea that her clothes were clean enough. Tossing them out of the pool and following right behind them, she realized quickly that after the warm water the mountain air felt colder than before. She also realized that she had forgotten to bring a towel, or anything to serve the same purpose. She tried to shake off as much of the water as she could before a third, closer, howl came and she decided that she was dry enough to put her borrowed clothes on.

She hastily dressed, not bothering to adjust the pants more than she had to to get them to stay up. Grabbing her wet clothes in one hand and her shoes and bag in the other, she headed back to camp as fast as she could in the dark unsure if she was imagining the sounds of large things moving through the forest behind her. Her heart was hammering in her chest from fear as she saw the light of their fire beginning to show through the undergrowth. Just a dozen more steps and she would be safe.

She now knew that she was not imagining the sounds of pursuit. The heavy footfalls of a large creature. The panting breath. The twigs in the undergrowth snapping as it passed. She could even feel their hot breath on her neck, but she was almost there. But it was too close, she would never make it. And then it was gone. As soon as she had moved into the firelight, the beast following her had given up pursuit.

The others looked up at her entrance. She stood there, eyes wide with fear and her breath coming in short gasping sobs. She didn't even react when Legolas and Pippin called her name. It was only when Gandlf stood and placed his hands on either side of her face that she reacted.

"What happened, child?" he asked, his tone soft with his concern. She looked at him with unfocused brown eyes. It took her a moment to recognize the wizard and longer to be able to form a coherent thought.

"There . . . there were howls," she began her voice shaky and her tone confused. "Howls in the distance. And then closer. And I was afraid and I started running, but they were right there running with me. I could hear them."

"There was nothing there, my dear," Gandalf said gently. "None of us heard anything. It was all in your mind. When we are afraid, the mind plays tricks on us and brings those fears to life. It was nothing more than that."

"But I heard the howls," Emily insisted vehemently pulling away from him. "I didn't imagine those."

"I, too, heard the howls," Legolas interjected. Emily looked at him hopefully. He was going to corroborate her story.

"However they were many leagues away. I have heard nothing near the camp, other than your movement through the forest," he finished and she felt her shoulders droop with his words.

"I didn't imagine it," she said feeling like weeping. Why didn't they believe her? She knew what she had heard. She _knew_ something had been in the forest with her.

"It happens often in the wild, Emily," Aragorn said gently. "Come. Sit by the fire and try to relax. Things will look better in the morning, but for tonight, I am willing to wager that at least one of the hobbits has a tale of some misadventure in the Shire they would be willing to share."

He grasped her arm above the elbow and led her to the fire where the others were sitting. She allowed him to guide her and tried to listen to the story Pippin was telling about a time that he and Merry had gotten caught in Bilbo's garden taking vegetables but she couldn't get the feeling of the hot breath she had felt on her neck out of her mind.

Though Boromir knew that the likelihood of them all missing something as large as she was describing was slim, the haunted look that remained in her eyes even after some time had passed convinced him that she might have seen something. Aragorn, too, saw her expression and felt his certainty that there was nothing in the dark begin to lessen. It was this that made him speak.

"Do you truly think that she only imagined it?" Aragorn asked in an undertone to Gandalf while the others were occupied with the tale.

"I do not know," Gandalf replied. "Legolas heard nothing, nor did anyone else. Logic states that nothing was there."

"True," Aragorn said. "But I will admit that I was not listening closely. With so many eyes and ears I am afraid that I allowed myself to relax content that one of us will hear something."

Gandalf nodded acknowledging the possibility that they had missed something due to lack of diligence. "In case she is correct, I feel that we should double the watch tonight. It is better to be over-protected than killed in our sleep."

"I hope that we are simply being over cautious," Aragorn said with a sigh. "But I fear that we will be required to fight before we ever reach the gates of Moria." Gandalf said nothing, but his silence spoke volumes about his belief in their safe passage to the gates.

**ooOO88OOoo**

**I am SOOOOOO sorry that this took so long to get out. I have no excuse this time. And I apologize. Hopefully it was worth the wait. If not, feel free to tell me in a review! As always thank you for taking the time to read my newest chapter. I hope you enjoyed it. **

**And a special thank you to anyone who added this story to their favorites or alerts. And an extra special thank you to:**

**Ilovelotr:**** I'm sorry that it wasn't soon :( but I am glad that you are enjoying the story so far. I'm glad that I have overcome the issue of turning her into an elf for you :). I hope you enjoyed this chapter, again I apologize for the long wait. It shouldn't happen again . . . I hope.**

**Guest:**** Maybe you do . . . ;)**

**Reader-anonymous-writer:**** Thank you for your review! I hope you enjoyed this chapter.**

**Angel Bells:**** Thank you for the compliment! And I'm sorry that it wasn't soon, but hopefully it will never take me that long again.**

**Padme4000:**** Thank you so much! And yep, hearing is next on the list (just in time for the drums in the deep muhahahahahahahahaha!) And you will get your wish. . . and as to the rest, we'll just have to wait and see. Your review by no means bored me. And thank you again for the compliment. I hope you enjoyed the newest chapter as well as you liked the previous ones.**

**As always, thank you for reading,**

**Stickdonkeys**


	11. Wargs, Watchers and Lessons in Elvish

**Brief synopsis from the last chapter: Last time, Legolas discovered Emily's age, everyone finally got to have a bath and Emily was chased through the forest by wargs . . . or was she?**

Once Pippin finished his tale, it was time for sleep. Even though the thought that there were wargs in the woods was enough to make them wary of sleep, they were too tired to do otherwise. Pippin and Aragorn agreed to take the first watch, Gandalf and Legolas the second, and Gimli and Boromir the third. Once the watches were settled, those who were not on the current watch prepared for sleep. Admittedly, that nights preparations were slightly different that they had been before as everyone slept that night with their weapons unsheathed beside them.

Even once the others were laid down to attempt to sleep, Emily continued to sit where Aragorn had led her earlier. She knew that there was no way she would sleep that night. Even though they were taking extra precautions, they didn't _truly_ believe that there was something out there. Besides, if she were to close her eye, it would only result in nightmares and with tensions already so high the last thing she wanted to do was cry out in her sleep and startle them.

She didn't know how long she had sat there, staring into the fire when she heard Aragorn speak softly from beside her.

"You should rest," he said. "I understand your hesitance, however we will keep watch." He didn't look at her as he was concentrated on throwing another log on the fire to discourage and wargs that might be about from entering camp.

"How can I sleep knowing that they're out there?" she asked pulling her cloak more tightly around her.

"By remembering that if they wanted to attack they would probably have already done it," he replied. "If you did encounter wargs it was most likely a scouting party. Most of them will have returned to the main pack and are most likely gone now. They will desire the full strength of the pack to attack as many as we are. As Legolas said, the main pack was leagues away. It will take time for them to cover that distance. Wargs are fast but they cannot fly."

"So they probably won't come back tonight?" she asked in a small desperate voice.

"Most likely they will not," Aragorn replied. "The darkness is their ally. In the time it would take for them to reunite with the pack and return here, dawn will have come. I would wager instead that they will track us and wait until nightfall tomorrow."

"By then we should be inside Moria, right?" Emily asked hopeful that she might be spared an encounter with the wargs. In the dark, she missed the emotion that flashed through Aragorn's eyes as he said his next words: words that he knew were most likely untrue even as he spoke them.

"Yes," he said. "We should be safe behind the walls of Moria before nightfall tomorrow." While he didn't doubt that they would reach the walls before nightfall, it was the word "safe" that his conscience objected to. He doubted that "safe" and "Moria" belonged in the same sentence. But if that was what she needed to hear it was what he would tell her. And it wasn't a true lie. They would be safe from the wargs.

"Are you sure?" Emily asked needing the reassurance that things would work out fine this time.

"No," Aragorn replied with a small bitter laugh. "I am sure of nothing. All of this is speculation. It is possible that I am wrong about all of my predictions. Would that I had the gift of Lord Elrond, but I do not. I can only predict these things based on past knowledge, not with any kind of certainty."

"Oh," she said feeling strangely let down. Somehow she had expected him to tell her that things would be fine, not tell her the truth. "Well, I suppose that is better than nothing, isn't it?"

"Yes," he replied with a smile. "And I have much past experience to call on. And the one thing that experience tells me for certain is that you should get some sleep."

"Much past experience, eh?" she asked, her eyes lighting with mischief and her tone light for the first time since she had returned from her bath. "You can't be over forty. That's not even twice my age and I wouldn't claim to have "much past experience" about anything."

Aragorn smiled at the change in her and at the fact that she had given him a clue to the puzzle. She was over twenty. How much over he still did not know but he at least had a starting place now. "If that is what you believe," Aragorn said mysteriously, moderately flattered that she did not think him older that forty.

"Really?" she said incredulously. His tone had sparked her interest and now she wondered just how old the man was. "How old are you anyway?" She heard his quiet chuckle as he turned to rejoin Pippin where they were keeping watch.

"Sleep well, Emily," he said laughter present in his voice. She shook her head as she laid down on one of the spare bedrolls. She recognized a dismissal when she heard one and realized that she would get no more answers from him in the dark. But she did vow to herself that she would find out his age. If he wouldn't tell her, she was sure that someone else would. It was with that final thought that she drifted into a fitful sleep.

"Do you really think they won't attack tonight, Strider?" Pippin asked his voice nearly strangled by fear. He had seen eyes reflecting firelight from the dark and knew that there were at least a few wargs still there. Or at least he believed that he had seen them. He didn't think that he had imagined them.

"I do not know, Pippin," Aragorn sighed wearily. He understood their fear. For Emily this was the first danger she had faced and Pippin . . . he was young as well and even though he had seen the Nazgûl, their malice had not been directed at him but rather at Frodo. Even so, he was having difficulty trying to assuage their fears when they were fully justified. The wargs would kill them without a second thought and they needed to remember that but they also needed to be able to function and they would be unable to do so if they were paralyzed by fear.

"We will need to be prepared if they attempt a surprise attack," Aragorn said. Pippin nodded and the two of them continued their silent vigil. Each occasionally seeing things that may have been the reflections of firelight from the eyes of wolves or a trick of the eyes. Even once their watch was done, they could not get the images of those eyes out of their minds. What sleep they did get was fitful. In fact, no one slept soundly that night.

**ooOO88OOoo**

The next day dawned bright and cold and both the man and the dwarf were glad that the final watch was over. It had not been a pleasant third of a night. Gimli had been loath to speak to Boromir for fear that whatever he said would be relayed to Emily and Boromir, though he had wanted to explain his recent actions to the dwarf had refrained because he did not want the conversation to be overheard and his work ruined. With the two of them both unwilling to speak to the other, the night had dragged and it was not for the wargs alone that the two of them were glad to finally see the rosy fingers of dawn tint the sky.

It was with more caution that normal that they awoke their companions. Haste would be necessary if they were to make the gates of Moria that day and they could not afford to waste time tending a wound caused by a startled companion. As Boromir reached out to wake Emily, knowing that she took the most time to be prepared to move out, she rolled suddenly and looked up at him with sad, tired brown eyes.

"I'm awake," she said softly.

"Did you not sleep?" Boromir asked, his tone sharper than he meant it to be. She may be an elf, but even they could not go without sleep entirely and today would be a hard march, as would their marches as they passed through the mines.

"I slept some," she defended her anger rising to meet his partially due to her sleep deprabation and partially due to the fact that she did not like his condescending attitude. He pulled back at her tone, surprised that she would snap at him.

"I apologize for being concerned for your well being," he said with a sarcastic half bow his eyes never leaving hers. "But I am sure that you are capable of looking after yourself. And your decision not to sleep will in no way affect your ability to navigate the treacherous paths of Moria."

His words struck a chord with Emily and she felt her anger deflate as suddenly as it had risen. "I'm sorry," she said looking away in her embarrassment at her behavior. Even though he hadn't said it in as many words, she knew that she had just hurt his feelings. She wanted to kick herself. He was just beginning to _tolerate_ her and she had to go and run her mouth.

"I didn't sleep well," she explained even though she knew that it was a weak explanation since he was being mostly pleasant and had actually been on watch for a third of the night. But she hoped that he would accept it until she could find a better way to make up for it.

"No," he said, his eyes softening even though she did not see it. "I suppose you did not. Fear does not make a good bedfellow and it was nearly a tangible thing here last night. I will wager that many harsh words that are not truly meant will be said before the day is out." He was impressed that she would deign to apologize, especially to him. He got the impression that despite her youth she was a proud woman. It made her apology, weak as it was, mean more to him: namely that she may start to slip up soon since she now had at least some regard for him . . . if there was anything for her to slip up and reveal, that is.

Their conversation was broken by a shout of surprise from the direction of the pool. Climbing quickly to her feet and following Boromir—who was already racing towards the sound with his sword drawn—she found the other fellowship members standing in a circle staring at the ground. In the middle of the circle, there was a single giant paw print.

Emily felt the blood drain from her face as she saw it. The print was easily bigger than her hand with all the fingers spread out. Her brain did a quick extrapolation about how big something would have to be to have feet that large and still be proportional. She felt as though her face had gone numb and all she could hear was a ringing in her ears. She felt herself begin to sway slightly until a hand grasped her shoulder and steadied her.

"Are you alright?" she heard Legolas ask from what seemed like miles away. She looked at him and swallowed a couple of times. He saw her lack of color and the dazed look in her eyes and wondered if she was going to faint. She didn't seem like the type of woman who fainted, but these were not the circumstances she generally would have found herself in, or so he thought being unfamiliar with the world she had come from.

"That . . . and me . . . and. . . together," she gasped out. She couldn't manage to get her mind to form the coherent string of words that would show her disbelief that she and something that big had been in the woods together with it chasing her. And that there were more of them.

"I . . . I think I need to sit down," she managed to get out before her knees gave out. Legolas's hand on her arm prevented her from falling and allowed him to ease her into a sitting position on the ground. She placed her head in her hands and closed her eyes breathing deeply through her nose and attempting to convince herself that it didn't matter that they had been in the same space at the same time. It hadn't eaten her and tonight the giant wolves would no longer be an issue.

"Emily?" Aragorn said from nearby. She lifted her head and opened her eyes to see that he was kneeling in front of her. His grey eyes were gentle, but there was also another emotion there that she couldn't place. It looked almost like regret.

"I know that this is difficult for you to absorb," he said. "And I apologize if our disbelief last night made it more difficult, but I'm afraid that we do not have time for hysterics at the moment if we wish to reach the walls of Moria before nightfall. I need you to be strong, can you do that?"

He watched as the fear in her eyes faded to determination. And waited for her nod before he smiled and said, "Good girl." He was unsure what had caused her to decide to do as he asked, nor did he intend to ask her for clarification. It was enough that she was going to do it. If he had bothered to ask, however, she would have told him that she would do whatever was necessary to avoid coming face to fang with those massive animals. If that meant repressing her fear, she would do it. If it meant sprinting the last miles to the gates of Moria, she would do that too, even if it killed her.

After they found the paw print, the company sprang into high gear and packed camp in record time. This was only delayed by the fact that they had to divide up the supplies that Bill the pony had carried. Sam was beside himself when he realized that they were going to turn the pony lose on his own in the wild, but after many reassurances from Aragorn and Gandalf that the wargs would follow them and leave the pony in peace and more kind words from Frodo, Sam had consented to allow him to be released with many tears.

Emily's heart went out to the hobbit. Even if he had been a little suspicious of her, it was difficult for her to watch him give up what could almost be described as a pet. She wanted to tell him that Bill would be fine, but she couldn't remember what had happened to him and couldn't bring herself to lie to him, especially since she didn't expect that he would appreciate her sympathy. So she occupied herself instead with loading one of the pony's bags with the supplies that she was told they needed to bring and making sure that it was balanced enough that she would be able to carry it.

Once that task was done, the fellowship set off for the final march to Moria. Where the day before, they had strolled with a will but still at an easy pace, today there was no ease and no complaint about the speed at which Gandalf lead them on. Instead, everyone was determined to keep the pace even with the added weight they had taken from the pony. This led to there being less conversation, and little or no humor as they bent all of their will on their destination.

Despite these difficulties, there was still time for contemplation and all of them were wondering the same thing: why had they not heard the wargs when they were so near to the campsite. Try as they might, none of them could discern the answer to that question. The question was one that seriously bothered Legolas—who prided himself on his superior senses. It also raised serious doubts in the minds of Boromir and Gimli as to if Emily was truly evil.

Wargs had long been known as the allies of evil, especially in their frequent alliances with orcs. If Emily were evil, then she would have been on the same side as the wargs and would never have run from them, nor raised the alarm once she arrived at camp. Even though it was possible that her reaction to both the wargs in the dark and the footprint this morning _could_ have been acts, at this point there were too many instances where she would have had to be acting—and doing it well—for that to be the likely explanation.

This realization caused them both to begin to question whether they truly wanted to enter Moria. Even Gimli felt his faith in the correctness of the path shaken. He remembered that it had been more than five years since he had heard from his cousin Balin who had gone to attempt to retake Moria. While it was true that dwarves lived longer lives than men, five years was still a long time during which to receive no correspondence, especially with the forest road being safer, even factoring in the toll the Beornings exacted to use it. He was beginning to fear that his cousin may be among the living no longer. If that proved to be the case, he was prepared to reconsider his position on Emily, and perhaps even offer her an apology for his error . . . perhaps.

**ooOO88OOoo**

Night was just beginning to creep into the eastern sky when Gandalf located the remains of the Gate Stream that used to flow from the Gates of Moria. Now all that was left for them to do was follow the stream bed to the gates and hope they could find the doors before night fell in earnest. In their haste, they had made no attempt to cover their trial, though with them being hunted by wargs, which primarily tracked by scent, any attempt to mask themselves would have in vain. They had placed their hope in speed rather than stealth.

With speed as their objective, they were thoroughly crushed as they climbed the stairs that should have placed them on the path that led to the gates of Moria only to find that their path was blocked by water. Emily's eyes widened as she took in the pool. She didn't remember the pool in front of the doors being that big, or taking up that much of the land near the door. She also hadn't expected it to smell, or look near as stagnant as it was.

"We now know what happened to the Gate Stream," Gandalf said with a sigh. "Now we must find a way around the water."

"We could just swim it," Gimli suggested leaning down to look at the water more closely.

"And wet all our supplies?" Boromir asked sarcastically. "Nay, there must be another way around."

"Wet supplies would be the least of our worries," Frodo said with a wry smile. "Hobbits, as a rule, do not swim. Other than Merry and myself, I don't believe that the others are capable. Unless one of you would like to swim Sam and Pippin across, swimming is not an option."

"Even though I can swim," Merry said his nose wrinkled in disdain, "I would not willingly enter that fetid water."

"Nor I," agreed Legolas. The dark water in the pool reminded him too much of the dark stream that ran through Mirkwood and put any who dared to touch its water into a deep sleep. No, he would not enter it if there was another way.

"Luckily for us," Gandalf said, "there appears to be a dry route around the north side of the lake. We may have to wade or jump the water, but it appears that we can circumnavigate the lake and remain mostly dry." The others looked doubtfully at the path in places it was little wider than a single foothold. With heavy packs and few handholds, they were doubtful that it could be done in a way that allowed them to remain dry. Suddenly a howl sounded in the distance.

"The hunt has begun," Gandalf barked. "The time for consideration is passed. It is now time to move. Go!" They didn't need to be told twice. If the choice was one between a dunking in a stagnant pool or being eaten alive by wargs, they all knew what they would rather have happen. So with as much haste as could be allowed with a moderate amount of caution, they began the assault on the path. Gandalf had been right. Other than one place where the water crossed the path that was too wide for all but Aragorn and Legolas to jump, they were able to stay dry. And there the water was only ankle deep on the hobbits, though they did grumble a bit at having to put their feet in the water.

Emily found herself hoping that the little ripples caused by them stepping into the shallows would not be enough to alert the Watcher to their presence more than worrying about getting her feet wet. She didn't know much about it, except that it had been roused by the tossing of stones into the water. She also knew that it was something that she wanted to avoid if at all possible.

Throughout their travel around the pool, the howls had been getting closer and growing in number. But it was when they finally reached the wide patch of dry earth that was next to the walls of Moria themselves and Gandalf and Gimli had begun trying to locate the gates that the first warg appeared at the top of the stairs they had just so recently stood on themselves.

For the first time since her vision had equalized and stopped causing her to trip over things, Emily found herself cursing her improved sight. It showed her, in far greater detail than she wanted, _exactly_ what had been in the woods with her the night before. If she hadn't been so terrified by the sight, she would have laughed at the irony of the situation: despite all the praise that the new movies had received, they had gotten one detail wrong that the old animated version of _The Hobbit_ had gotten right. The wargs did not look like as much like giant hyenas, but rather wolves the size of polar bears.

"Ummm, guys," Emily said. "I hate to rush you, but we have company." Gimli and Gandalf did not reply to her statement but ignored her in favor of attempting to locate the door that would be their salvation. The rest of the fellowship however looked up at her call and saw the warg. The hobbits, like Emily had never seen a warg before, though they had heard about them from Bilbo. But hearing about something and seeing it firsthand were two totally different things. In their hearts, they had always believed that Bilbo had exaggerated the size of wargs for effect, now they thought that he may have shrunk them.

"Come," Aragorn said drawing his sword as the first of the wargs began to travel along the dry path they had taken. It too seemed reluctant to enter the water, though it was forced to do so on occasion. "Let us buy them the time they need to find the door."

Emily glanced anxiously over her shoulder at Gimli and Gandalf who seemed to be focusing their attentions on a stretch of wall between two giant trees. She didn't remember seeing the trees, but she trusted that Gandalf knew what he was doing. If only he could find the door, they could escape. She knew the password, they wouldn't have to try to riddle it out.

She looked back towards the others and instantly wished that she hadn't. As soon as the first warg had come into range, Legolas had fired an arrow at it. She had looked just in time to see the arrow burry itself to the fletching in the eye socket of the warg, spraying blood as it fell down dead where it had stood. She hadn't expected the blood to be so red. Or for there to be so much of it. She was disgusted by the sight, but fascinated at the same time. She found herself unable to look away.

Soon her concentration was snapped away from the dead warg by the enraged howls of its pack. Rather than deter them from attacking, Legolas' slaying of the first warg had only served to cause the others to be more determined to kill them than they had been before. The bowl created by the high walls and the still water served to amplify and bounce the angry noises now emanating from the wargs into a cacophony of sound that was almost loud enough to shake the ground. Or that was how it seemed to Emily. The others did not seem to be as affected by the sound.

Somehow through the din, she heard Gandalf's exclamation of joy as he found the gate. Wanting to look at anything except the seeming endless line of wargs coming around the pool she looked at Gandalf. She almost felt her jaw drop in amazement. The gate was more beautiful than anything she had seen so far. Easily seven feet tall, it was outlined in a glowing blue-silver metal that shone brightly enough to illuminate the awed face of Gimli and the relieved smile of Gandalf.

Another yelp from behind her drew her attention once more. Another warg now lay next to the corpse of its packmate, one of Legolas' arrows protruding from the same eye of the second as its pair had from the first one. Just as he had prepared to kill the next warg, he was stopped by Aragorn's hand on his arm.

He shook his head sadly and said, "Save your arrows, my friend. I fear we will need them inside the mines more than they are needed here." Legolas nodded. He could see the logic in that. The path created a bit of a choke. Without coming through the water, they would have to come one at a time. At that rate, they could be dealt with, for a time at least.

"Frodo, Merry, Pippin, Sam," Aragorn called startling the hobbits out of staring at the approaching wargs. "Form a rear guard. If anything manages to break through, attempt to kill it before it can disturb Gandalf. We need to allow him time to think." They nodded and moved back towards Gandalf drawing their short swords. Frodo felt a stab of fear go through him as he realized that the edges of Sting were glowing but he said nothing. Once the wargs were taken care of, he would raise the issue of the orcs.

No sooner had Aragorn finished speaking than the first warg made its assault on the frontmost defenders. It was quickly slain by the combined efforts of Aragorn and Boromir, their swords working in tandem to decapitate the creature. Emily covered her mouth as she felt her stomach churn at the sound of the swords passing through flesh and bone and the fountain of blood that erupted from the severed neck. Boromir and Aragorn did not even pause to wipe the blood from their faces before they faced the next warg.

This one had seen what had happened to its packmate and was smarter. It came at them and waited for their swords to begin their descent before it stopped and pulled back so that the blades only grazed it. Before they could recover, it forced itself past them intending to attack from behind before they had a chance to turn and defend. But it had forgotten about Legolas. The elf-prince killed it easily by slitting its throat with the long curved knife that he carried the blade glittering ruby in the moonlight as he finished his grizzly task. But it was not enough, more were coming. There was no way that the three of them, warriors though they were, would be able to stop them all.

In the chaos and carnage, Emily had forgotten that Gandalf and Gimli had found the door until she heard Gandalf say, "Gimli, help the others. The password will be Elvish, like the writing above the door. I will soon have this sorted." She heard the Dwarf give a deep rumble of a laugh and then she felt him pass her as he joined the fray wielding his double bladed battle ax ferociously. She heard Gandalf yelling various things in what she assumed was Elvish in an attempt to open the door. This shook her out of the stupor that had been brought on by her shock at seeing bloodshed for the first time in her life.

"Gandalf," she called. "I know the password. It's—" Much like what had previously happened, her words stopped in her throat and no matter what she tried to do, she couldn't say that word. Knowing that that method was useless, she racked her brain for a way to get someone else to say the word. They couldn't afford to wait for someone else to think of it, already the members of the company were beginning to tire as they fought against larger foes after a hard days march all while trying to maneuver and keep their footing on the smooth stone walkway that was now slicked with blood and choked with the bodies of the fallen wargs.

Suddenly it hit her. They didn't have to know that it was the password that they were saying. All they had to do was say the word. "Hey, guys!" she yelled in an attempt to be heard over the howls and yelps of the wounded wargs and the sickening thud of metal against flesh. "I've decided that I want to learn Elvish."

"That is wonderful," Legolas called back as he dodged the teeth of a warg only to slit its throat as he had the other. He didn't even seem to notice the blood that sprayed him as it fell at his feet. "An elf unable to speak Elvish is a shame. But is now truly the appropriate time for this announcement?"

"Now's the perfect time," Emily yelled in reply. She closed her eyes as he stabbed the creature again as it made one last, pitiful attempt to bite him. She winced as she heard it yelp. Evil and giant or not, with her eyes closed it sounded just like a dog in pain. With that realization she reopened her eyes. Seeing the carnage was better than not seeing it in this case. At least that way she could remember what it was they were killing.

"In fact," she called, "I think now is the perfect time for my first lesson. How do you say "friend" in Elvish?"

"Emily," Aragorn admonished sharply. He understood why she was not assisting in the fight as she had no weapon but for her to be distracting those that were fighting was unacceptable. If anyone was injured because of this frivolous behavior he and she would at the very least have words over it.

"Just answer the question!" she snapped ignoring the warning in his tone. She understood his anger, but she was doing something for the good of them all. She didn't have time to wait for a lull in the fight . . . not if they wanted to survive the fight.

"_Mellon_," Gandalf, Aragorn and Legolas all yelled at the same time hoping that it would quiet her and allow them to focus on their various tasks. No sooner had the word left their mouths than there was a noise like the cracking of sheet ice and the great door split down the middle and began to swing open.

"I told you it was important," Emily called smugly as she backed towards the gates, not trusting a warg to not charge her once her back was turned. Once they realized what had happened, the defenders began backing towards the door as well, their paths encumbered by the corpses of the wargs that they had slain. They had almost reached the doors when Emily looked at Gandalf.

"You don't know how to close these door by any chance, do you?" she asked trepidation in her voice. She sincerely hoped the answer was yes because that was the only what that she could see that they could escape the wargs since through moving towards the door they had given up their bottle neck and allowed for more of them to come at once.

He shook his head. "No, but I am sure that I can manage it," he replied his voice as steady as always. His confidence astounded her. Facing down imminent death and he was no more troubled than if she had asked him if he could cook a meal for a large party.

In the end, she needn't have worried. The wargs, seeing that their prey was about to escape, made a desperate last assault. The ones that were unable to complete the journey by land must have decided that since the fastest distance between two points was a straight line their best bet would be to cut across the lake. Once they reached the middle, the Watcher entered the fray and dragged the unsuspecting wargs under to their deaths.

Now that it had been aroused, it was nowhere near finished. A myriad of tentacles shot out of the water and dragged the wargs that were on the shore into the water. This initial assault gave the fellowship members time to retreat into the safety of Moria without the bother of keeping the wargs out. The Watcher reached through the door in an attempt to grab them, but they had ascended the steps ahead of it and were out of reach. Almost as though it resented the remainder of its prey escaping—or like a moody teenager—the Watcher seized the doors of Moria and forced them shut. Even though they were now entombed in the Mines of Moria, the fellowship breathed a sigh of relief at having escaped death for the time being.

**ooOO88OOoo**

**Well, there were are y'all. A new chapter. Sorry about the bit of gore in this one, I tried to keep it to a minimum, but sword fights are not clean things. . . unlike in the movies. Can't have a battle without a little gore. I hope you enjoyed it anyway. (I mean think about it, if you do the math on it figuring that a polar bear weights between 350 and 680 kg (770-1500lbs) and blood weight averages about 7% of body weight with a density of about 1.05 kg/L then a small polar bear has about 23.33 liters (6.15 gallons) of blood large polar bear has 45.33 liters (11.96 gallons) of blood. That's A LOT of blood to be covering the ground. In the grand scheme of things I think I really minimized the gore) (Zoology FTW)**

**Anyway, with that rant over, thank you to everyone who read this chapter. I would love to hear what you thought.**

**And a special thank you to anyone who added it to their favorites or alerts. **

**And Extra special thank you to:**

**Angel Bells: ****I am glad that you are enjoying this. And the next chapter is up for you now. I hope you enjoy it.**

**Padme4000:**** I'm glad that you enjoyed it! I tried to make both sides believable and sympathetic in this case and I am glad that I succeded. And even though it wasn't in the woods, I did include the warg battle I ;). I'm glad that Emily's presence is at least believable and thank you so much for the compliment. I'll see what I can do about slipping the new petname for her in . . . it might provide the perfect fuel for something I had planned. Thank you for offering up the word. Sadly, I know absolutely nothing about elvish. **

**Ilovelotr:** **I'm glad that you enjoyed the chapter and that Emily is beginging to redeem herself for you :) And I apologize again. Hopefully this, more timely update will help you to forgive me.**

**Reader-anoymous-writer:**** thank you for your review.**

**Katia0203:**** I am glad that you have enjoyed it so far! Hopefully this was soon enough for you :)**

**I'm afraid that this will have to tide y'all over at least for a week, there will be no chance of me updating before next Friday. I'll be out of town and away from my computer and the internet :( but I will have a notebook and should be able to work on the next chapter the old-fashoned way. **

**Stickdonkyes.**


	12. Gaping Chasms and Battle Wounds

Their euphoria at escaping certain death from the wargs and the watcher did not last long. They soon realized that they had not actually escaped death, but merely postponed it. The Mines of Moria were a death trap. Even with Gandalf lighting the way they were easily a million ways to die here.

The years since the dwarves had left Moria had not been kind to it. Without their careful maintenance the infrastructure of the mines was beginning to deteriorate. Paths that had appeared solid crumbled suddenly under the feet of the fellowship, sometimes leaving gaping holes in the middle of the path that those that were not yet across had to find a way around or jump across the chasm.

The first time this had happened, it had been Emily who had almost fallen to her death. She would have too had Boromir not grabbed her arm and pulled her back at the last second. She grasped his arm reflexively as she attempted to recover herself after almost plummeting into the abyss. She was so absorbed in the fact that she had almost died that she did not notice the way he winced as she gripped him. Due to this preoccupation, she was surprised when she pulled her hand back to find it covered in warm, sticky blood.

She wasn't shocked at the blood, per se. About half of the fellowship was _still_ covered in the dried blood of the wargs since they had chosen—unanimously—that speed through the mines was more important that being clean. Their choice had also been made since water would be a precious commodity in Moria that would be better used to drink than to bathe. No, what surprised her was not the blood but rather the fact that the blood was still wet. From what little she could see in the gloom, the blood on the others had long since dried.

"You're hurt," she said. It wasn't a question. She knew that the blood now covering her hand was his.

"I will be fine," he replied, his tone dismissive. " 'Tis but a small wound. I can tend to it at a more convenient time."

"What kind of wound?" she asked as they carefully made their way around the chasm. She knew that it was a dumb question but she needed something to distract her from the fact that at any moment the thin ledge she was walking on could join the rest of the floor in the abyss taking her with it.

"A battle wound," Boromir replied smugly. He knew that he could simply tell her that one of the wargs had managed to bite him, but he too was attempting to forget the fact that they were literally walking on the brink of death and this light, teasing conversation was the ideal way to do it.

Emily could tell, even if she couldn't see it, that Boromir was smiling as he answered her. She sighed and shook her head a smile on her own face. She really couldn't understand how he could come up with such a smart-assed answer in _this _situation. She knew that her brain was not that quick at the moment.

"And how did you sustain this "battle wound"?" she asked matching his tone with a little sarcasm of her own.

"In battle," he replied simply fighting the urge to laugh as he imagined the look on her face. He knew that his reply would agitate her but had been unable to resist. He wasn't entirely sure why he chose to provoke her, but it amused him to do so. And something about the darkness made it easier for him to be more forward with her, as did the fact that she had rescued them from the wargs. No agent of the enemy would have done so, or so he thought. If they survived the Mines he would offer her a formal apology, unless, of course, she betrayed them in the dark.

"Worry not," he continued before she could reply in what he feared would be a loud manner. "I will tend to it at our first rest." He could tell by the sigh that followed that she was not satisfied with that answer but he could offer her no other.

After his assurance that he would take care of his wound, they lapsed into silence. In general, the fellowship as a whole was silent. They all could sense that there was a sleeping malevolence in the darkness of Moria that was best left un-woken so any conversations that did take place were truncated and conducted in whispers. Even the young hobbits seemed to realize the danger and were quiet and watchful . . . for a time.

But as with anyone, hobbits can only be terrified for so long and eventually the body grows accustomed to that level of fear. Theirs became accustomed to it the first time that Gandalf had stopped to try to determine the correct path. As he and Gimli had consulted, the youngest hobbits had been exploring the area with the curiosity of the young and walking precariously close to the edge of a hole in the path prompting Aragorn and Frodo to grasp the handles on their packs in case the floor should give out from under them.

Gandalf sighed as he watched them. Not for the first time, Gandalf almost regretted convincing Elrond that Merry and Pippin would be a good addition to the company. Their ability to find levity in any situation was placing themselves and potentially the entire company in jeopardy. His one solace was that they were at least being quiet about it. And even though he was feeling slightly hostile towards them for their lightheartedness in the place that would lead to his death he could not truly be cross with them. He would take quiet levity over loud hysterics in this situation any day.

_I cannot find fault in them,_ he thought as he forced down his frustration with a sad smile no one could see. _They do not know what is to come. _Despite what he had told Emily about being willing to die if that was what it took to stop the dark, it was difficult for him to continue on knowing that every step he took was a step closer to his doom. He knew that death came to most creatures eventually, but he had never expected it to come to him. Now that the time had come, he realized that even with all the time he had spent on the earth it was not enough to truly savor the beauty of life. Even so, he would not turn from this path. He would face it whatever form his end took.

As this last thought crossed his mind he set his shoulders with a kind of grim determination and stood. He had found the path that would lead them onward towards their goal . . . or so he hoped. The others, with the exception of Emily and Aragorn who knew the truth behind his determination, were comforted by his demeanor. To them it meant that he knew where they were going and was determined to get them there safely by any means necessary—even if that meant leading them through the infamous Mines of Moria.

**ooOO88OOoo**

Eventually, after more than one member of the fellowship had begun stumbling from exhaustion and unseen snags in the darkness, they found a large platform that was surrounded by a low wall and seemed to be entirely solid. It was here that they decided to call the first rest. As they gratefully set their packs down, Pippin asked the question that many of them had been wondering since they had entered the Mines.

"Gandalf?" he asked and waited for the wizard to acknowledge his question before he continued. "What happened here? Why are the paths so unstable when it is clear that they were once strong?"

"Yes," Merry added speaking quietly. "And why does the air fell so tense? It's almost as if it is waiting for something to happen. I don't like it."

"Nor do I," Legolas added. "To me the air does not feel tense, but hostile. There is great sadness here."

"Alas," Gandalf replied with a sigh, "That is not my tale to tell. If you wish to know the history of the Mines of Moria you should ask Gimli. It is a tale of the Dwarves and should be told by a dwarf, if he so chooses."

"I do not wish to tell it," Gimli said slowly, his deep voice rumbling in the dark. "However, if you truly wish to know, I will." He glanced around the circle and saw the eager expressions of the fellowship, his eyes more accustomed to darkness than those of the others. Realizing that he had a captive, interested audience he sighed deeply.

"Moria was once a great kingdom called _Khazad-dûm_," Gimli began. It would hurt nothing to give them an abbreviated version of the history of the dwarves. "It was ruled by Durin and prospered. Many riches were to be found in the mountains, but none was more precious than _mithril_—to give the Elvish name. _Mithril_ was the true prize of _Khazad-dûm_.

"With skills now lost to even the dwarves Durin's people turned the raw _mithril_ ore into a product stronger than iron that had the beauty of silver. It was especially valued by the elves, with whom we had free trade at that time," Gimli continued, looking at Legolas and Emily as he said that last part. When the quest had begun he had shared his people's inherent dislike of the elves, especially the Mirkwood elves, but as the quest had continued he had begun to see that he had perhaps been wrong. Elves were not the aloof, heartless, apathetic people he had been lead to believe. They had emotions. They cared. And they were doughty fighters, not simply sentimental stargazers and songwriters.

"The Elves were willing to pay handsomely for the metal, and the dwarves were more than willing to mine for it," Gimli explained with a shrug. "It was due to this that they continued to dig beyond prudence. It was their digging that awoke the monster: Durin's Bane. I do not know what manner of beast it is, but it was terrible enough that it killed many, including Durin and drove the remaining dwarves from the kingdom of _Khazad-dûm. _

"A few attempts have been made to reclaim _Khazad-dûm," _he said. "The most recent by my cousin, Balin. I had hoped to reunite with him here. However, the condition of the main road from the west door makes me doubt that he ever came here and I fear for him if he did."

"Then I hope he did not," Frodo said suddenly looking at Gimli sadly. "I remember meeting Balin when I was younger at Bag End. He had been kind to me. It would grieve me to know that he is dead."

When Gimli said nothing more the others sat in silence. Emily especially was shocked by what she had heard. She had never known the why the Mines of Moria had been abandoned. Somehow knowing that so many people had died here in the past—not including the dwarves that came with Balin that were also dead—made the place seem all the more real to her. Somehow their deaths, more than the threat of her own, solidified the danger. For the first time she wished that she would have at least picked up a stick she could use to defend herself while they were in the woods.

Gimli's story had affected the others too. Most of them had never heard what happened in the mines, or if they had they had never thought about it much, figuring that they would never come there. After a time, it was again Pippin that asked the question that had been plaguing the minds of the entire company.

"But it's gone, right?" he asked, his tone desperate and his voice higher with the fear he now felt. He almost wished that he had never asked for the history of Moria. "Durin's Bane?"

"No one knows," Gimli replied. "But I would wager so."

"I fear you would lose that wager, Gimli," Gandalf replied. "I do not believe it has gone. But if we are lucky we will slip past it unnoticed."

"Do you know what it is, Gandalf?" Merry asked. He wasn't sure that he wanted the answer but he felt it was a question that needed to be asked.

Gandalf sighed. "I have my suspicious," he eventually replied but he would say no more. From the descriptions he had heard of the beast it was a balrog, but he was not sure and refused to tell the others and have them fear it more than they already did. Not until he was certain would he tell them what manner of creature Durin's Bane might be.

"Come," Aragorn said suddenly startling many who had been lost in thoughts and speculations about what Durin's Bane was or about the fear the dwarves must have felt as they were slain by it. "We should rest. If we wish to sneak past unnoticed by the creatures that dwell here we must be alert." At his words, the others silently began preparing for sleep.

Boromir looked up as he sensed someone standing over him as he unrolled his bedding for the night. In the dark he could just make out Emily's red hair and see her hands situated on her hips as he glared down at him. He looked up at her in confusion.

"Do you require something from me?" he asked when she said nothing.

"You have something you need to do before you sleep," she reminded him. She sounded all the world like a mother scolding a thoughtless child for forgetting their chores.

"Do I?" he asked, attempting to keep his tone neutral despite the fact that the way she was speaking to him grated on his already raw nerves. "And what would that be, pray tell?" She raised an eyebrow at his question even though she knew that it was futile.

"You have a wound to tend to," she reminded him. "Unless you would rather that I do it. I'm pretty good at first aid, comes from being accident prone." She offered the last bit sheepishly. Somehow she figured that he would neither want nor appreciate her help but she also knew that it wouldn't hurt to offer.

"You would do that?" he asked suddenly. He didn't understand why she cared so much for his well being. He had not been kind to her initially and had been suspicious of her even after he had begun to be kind. Her compassion for him in the face of his actions shamed him.

She nodded before she realized that it was useless. "Yeah," she said with a shrug. "If that's what it takes to get you patched up, I'll do it."

He sighed before he stood and took her elbow. "Come," he said. "I would appreciate the help. We can use the light of Gandalf's staff to make this easier." As they walked past the hobbits Emily caught a snipit of the conversation they were having.

"Running from wargs all day and then no hot meal," she heard Sam mumble. "I don't like this trip one bit."

"I'd prefer missing a couple of hot meals to dying," Merry replied simply.

"Beggin' your pardon, Mister Brandybuck," Sam replied. "But that is just unhobbitlike, that is."

Rather than being offended Merry had laughed, as had the others.

"Don't worry, Sam," Frodo said. "We'll get you a hot meal when this is all over. Just wait and see."

Emily smiled as she listened. Their banter reminded her of the way she had her friends had always interacted. She wondered how things were going back home. Had anyone even realized that she was gone yet or did time move differently here? She didn't know if they missed her, but she missed them. Even though the fellowship was beginning to warm up to her it was not the same. She wished she knew if she would ever get home, even if she did survive the quest.

Boromir's hand tightening on her arm caused her to come back to the present. She looked at him curiously and he gestured with his head in the direction she had been walking and realized that while she was lost in her thoughts she had almost walked right off the platform.

"Oops," she grinned sheepishly. "Sorry, I was thinking about home." In the light of Gandalf's staff he saw the sadness that was in her eyes as she admitted to missing her home. At the word, Boromir had an image of the White City flash through his mind along with the faces of his father and brother.

"Try not to get lost in the memories," he said gently. "If you die because of them you will never have the chance to return there." She sighed in response.

"I may never get to anyway," she said sadly. Her words shocked him. It had never occurred to him that she may have to spend the rest of her life in Middle Earth. Aragorn and Legolas, though they had not been eavesdropping intentionally also heard her words. Even though the thought had occurred to both of them before, they had hoped that she would not realize it for some time. Or that she would never have to realize it because she had been transported home as suddenly as she had arrived. In the soft glow of Gandalf's staff, Emily could see the pity on their faces.

"Well," she said swallowing back her tears. "Let's do this, shall we?" She was trying to change the subject. The others had more important things to worry about than her little problems: like trying to stay alive. She would take their friendship if it was offered, but she didn't want their pity.

Boromir nodded, sensing that she wanted to change the subject and more than willing to oblidge. All this talk of home had saddened him as well. He wondered how his city may have changed by the time he returned or who would be there to greet him when he did. Feeling slightly self-conscious he began to remove his shirt. Even though the sleeves were loose, the wound was high on his arm and it would be easier to treat without the encumbrance of his shirt.

As he began to strip Emily felt a flush creep into her face. True, she had seen men naked before. She had even had sex with one. And back home a shirtless man was not an unusual sight, but somehow the idea of seeing one of _these_ men naked was different for her. Even so, she couldn't help but admire the musculature that the act had revealed. Her blush darkened as she realize that her admiration had not gone unnoticed. For the first time she was thankful for the darkness because it might hide her blush from the others.

Despite the fact that he mind was telling her not to, she reached out her hand and gently grasped his arm just above the elbow. Using her left hand, she gently traced the bite mark the warg had left in his arm. He had been lucky. Even though the punctures were deep and still oozing blood it had not gotten a firm grip. It had only gotten four teeth in and any one of those wargs could easily have bitten his arm off.

Releasing him, she dug in her bag for a cloth. While she was doing this Boromir was watching her closely. He didn't think that he had imagined her blush, or the slight tremor in her hands as she had touched him. He wondered what they had meant but rapidly decided that her blush was just that as a woman she had never seen a man in such a state of undress. The tremor could be explained away just as easily: she was afraid of injuring him further. Yes, those were perfect explanations for her behavior. Even so, he couldn't help but notice the gentle yet firm way that her soft hands grabbed his arm once more as she bathed the wound and bound it.

"Since this is a bite I don't think I should stitch it up," she said. "I don't think you are supposed to stitch bite wounds. I'm just going to tie it up. Try not to use it too much until it heals, ok?"

He smiled at her words. His sword arm was the one that had been injured. She may as well have asked him not to breathe. If there was a battle before they were out of Moria he would have to use it. The risk of reopening the wound was less dire than the risk of using his weaker hand to battle orcs.

"I will attempt to rest it," he replied. "However I can make no promises." She smiled at his tone. She should have realized that she was making an impossible request.

"That'll have to do," she said before checking that her not was solid and walking to where she had placed her pack near Aragorn and Legolas. The Man and the Elf exchanged glances as they watched the end of the exchange between the other two. They had both seen the entire thing and knew that this was a relationship that they would need to keep both eyes on. After all, Emily had no father in this world to insure her honor was protected.

**ooOO88OOoo**

**Well there we all y'all. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I was trying to slip in a little more fluff-ish stuff before the scenes that have to come next. But I can't change everything and the fall of Gandalf is too important to mess with :( **

**As always, thank you to the people that added this story to their favorites or alerts.**

**And a special thank you to:**

**dannastarry:**** I'm glad that you appreciated it. I almost didn't put it in, but I hoped that someone else would enjoy the math behind it. **

**ZabuzasGirl:**** I'm sorry that it wasn't immediately, hopefully this was soon enough. The next chapter is almost completely written but this seemed like a good place to stop and I didn't have time to edit the next part. Hopefully I can get the next one up in less than a week.**

**Katia0203:**** Thank you! I hope you had a Merry Christmas as well. And don't worry lots of simmering was accomplished. After we get through Lothlorien things will fly . . . for a while at least. **

**Ilovelotr:**** Thank you so much! I try to lay things out well and I am glad that that comes across. I was really worried about the blood and gore. I know that people reading romances don't often like it when there is too much blood. I hope you still feel that it was worth the wait after reading this chapter :)**

**Padme4000:**** I'm glad that you didn't forget! And I hear you on the stress. . . *sigh*. They bothered me SO much in the movie! I agree that the book wargs are much scarier. I was glad that they changed the design in the new Hobbit movie. I like those wargs so much better. I couldn't leave that out! That is one of my favorite scenes from Moria. And where would be the fun in that? If I wanted to follow the movie I would watch it. Half of the fun of fanfic is messing with plots and characters (within reason of course). And there is nothing sad about that. Since I have so many characters that DO speak elvish I should probably look some up, but I probably won't. Bloodless battles bother me to no end. Especially if you are going to kill off main characters. But I kinda understand. Most people don't really know enough about the human or animal body to realize just how much blood, gut and fluids there really are in there. But no, beautiful covered in blood. . . I don't think so. . .Scary as hell. . . perhaps. And I hope you had a Merry Christmas and hope you have a happy new year. **

**SunnySkies:**** Thank you so much! I hope you enjoyed this new chapter.**

**Well, that's all for now folks. I hope you enjoyed the newest chapter of this story and that you have a happy start to the new year. **

**See you in the new year,**

**Stickdonkeys**


	13. Noises, Tempers and Drums in the Deep

Emily sighed as she looked out into the darkness again. Once Gandalf had fallen asleep, the light from his staff had gone out leaving them in complete darkness. She had assumed that it would help her to fall asleep, but in the blackness, she could hear things moving and she couldn't see where they were. She rolled again trying to find a way to cover her ears so that she couldn't hear it anymore.

"You should rest," she heard Legolas say quietly from beside her. He was on watch and had been listening to her toss for a time before he decided to intervene.

"I can't," she said almost desperately. She knew that he was right, every fiber of her being craved sleep but she couldn't relax well enough to do it. Not with the sounds in the darkness.

"What troubles you?" he asked. Her voice had sounded haunted. He knew that the very air in Moria was oppressive but he felt like it was something more. "Is it the encounter you had with Boromir earlier?"

"What?!" she asked, her eyes going wide at the insinuation in his tone. She had thought that no one had noticed her reaction to seeing Boromir shirtless. Damn Elvish senses. He'd probably heard her heart rate speed or something like that.

"No," she said honestly. She wanted to deny that anything had happened between her and Boromir at all, but she knew that he wasn't just guessing. Somehow he _knew_ what kind of effect the man had had on her_._

"I hear _things_ in the darkness," she explained hoping that by changing the subject she could stop the flush that had crept into her face at the reminder. "I'm not sure if I'm imagining them, but I don't think so."

"You are not imagining them," he replied deciding that the truth was better than a lie. "I hear them as well. However, you need not worry. They are some distance from us and cannot hear us in return."

"But what if they come closer?" She asked, the quiver in her voice betraying her fear at the possibility. "They live here so they have to be used to the dark. They'll see us long before we see them."

"And I will hear them before they will be able to see us," he replied, his voice steady and sure. She heard his light footsteps on the platform before he walked towards her head. She wondered why he had moved and felt herself tense in preparation for a battle. But that was not the cause of his movement. Instead he sat just above the bag she was using as a pillow.

"Sleep, _penneth_," he said as he placed a gentle hand on head and stroked her hair in a soothing gesture. "No harm will come to you while I am on watch."

She wasn't sure what the word meant, but it sounded like a term of endearment. She meant to ask him what it meant but almost as soon as he began petting her, she felt her eyelids grow heavy and begin to droop. Part of her resented being petted to sleep like a child, but she was unable to resist the call of sleep. As she drifted to sleep, she could have sworn that she heard Legolas humming quietly in the dark.

He heard as her breathing evened out and felt as her head drooped in sleep. He smiled a little. In the grand scheme of things she really was still a child. A few kind words and a gentle touch and all her fears were forgotten. He wished that he could still be soothed in the same way. He would not be able to rest easily while they were still under the ground, no matter who was on watch.

"When did she become "little one"?" he heard Aragorn ask from the other side of the platform where he was keeping watch, laughter in his voice.

"Can you think of a better word to call her?" Legolas replied with a smile on his face. "It describes her well. Did you know that she has only attained—"

"No!" Aragorn said suddenly. "Do not tell me." Legolas was surprised by the outburst. He could not understand why the Ranger would not want to know the girl's age.

Sensing the confusion of the Elf, Aragorn laughed before he said, "I would like to riddle her age out for myself. As of yesterday, I know that she is over twenty. Eventually I will determine the number more precisely."

"So it is a game?" Legolas asked slowly. He did not understand the point of this game. It was not really a very good riddle. Additionally he could see no prize at the end other than the information itself.

"Yes," Aragorn replied. "It is a game that has no stakes. The worst that can happen is that I guess incorrectly and have to begin again." Understanding dawned suddenly in the Elf. The fact that there was no prize or consequences was the fun of the game. It was something simple to occupy the Man's mind.

"If you desire a hint, feel free to ask," Legolas replied with a grin knowing that it would bother Aragorn to know that someone else besides Emily knew the answer to the riddle. "I know the answer."

**ooOO88OOoo**

The next morning, or whatever time it was when Gandalf decided it was time to resume the march, tempers were higher than they had been the day before since fewer people had been able to sleep well. The two nights in a row of little sleep were beginning to take their toll, as was the fact that everyone had to be constantly on edge. The path they were now traveling on was little better than the road had been the previous day and dangers still popped out of nowhere and threatened to drop the fellowship to their deaths. Even the hobbits were beginning to get a little snippy, though that could have been lack of food rather than lack of sleep.

It was most likely this that led to the terse exchange of words the next time that Gandalf and Gimli stopped the fellowship to attempt to determine which of three paths they should take.

"What is the point of having a guide if he does not know the correct path to take us," Boromir grumbled to himself forgetting that in the stillness of Moria sound traveled quite well.

"Do you think that you would be a better guide?" Gandalf had snapped, whirling to face the man with his eyebrows and beard bushing out with the force of his anger. "No? Then be still and allow us to think!"

When Boromir said nothing in response, Gandalf had turned back to Gimli and they continued their discussion about where they most likely were and how to best get to where they needed to be. Boromir almost apologized to the wizard and explained that he was feeling cantankerous because mere moments before he had stepped to the side to avoid a chasm that opened in the floor and had hit his wound on the wall. However, he knew that this was weak excuse and with the wizard already in a foul mood it would serve no purpose other than to irritate him further.

But Boromir needn't have worried, Gandalf's ire was about to be turned on another. While he and Gimli were otherwise occupied, Merry and Pippin had been looking into an old well in the corner. And at the goading of the other, Pippin had picked up a stone and dropped it into the well to check its depth. When it finally hit, the sound echoed around in the well magnifying it before it arose and bounced around the room.

"What happened?" Gandalf asked sharply turning to face the two hobbits.

"I-I dropped a stone in the well to see how deep it is," Pippin said honestly. He had to admit that the wizard was terrifying at the moment, but the prospect of lying to the already angry Gandalf was something he could not fathom.

"Next time, jump in yourself," Gandalf barked. "Then we will have no more disturbance like this from you!" At his words, Pippin's face fell. He knew that the wizard was under stress, but to tell him something like that . . . stress or no stress, it hurt.

"He didn't mean it," Emily said trying to comfort the hobbit. She knew that Gandalf didn't mean it, not really. With all the trouble he would go through later for Pippin she knew that the wizard had a soft spot for the hobbit.

"I'm not so sure," Pippin replied before he stood up and walked away from both her and Merry to sit by Aragorn and Frodo.

"It'll be alright," Merry said to Emily. "Once we get out of the mines, they'll make up. You'll see." Emily didn't have the heart to tell him that he was wrong. Even so, right on the tail end of his words came the faint sound of a hammer on metal rising from the well. Emily wondered what would have happened if she had stopped Pippin. Would Gandalf still have fallen if Pippin had never dropped the stone in the well?

**ooOO88OOoo**

Eventually, Gandalf and Gimli decided on a path and the fellowship continued walking once more. Emily didn't know how long they had walked when Gandalf finally called a halt, but she knew that it had been a very long time. Or at least she thought so. Time moved strangely in the dark. She had never realized how much she would miss the sun.

After a brief rest and some dried meat and berries, the fellowship was off once more. The path was beginning to be a little sturdier, the chasms and cracks coming less frequently and being smaller when they did so they began to make better time. As with the night before, everyone was exhausted and waiting for Gandalf to call an end to the day's march when suddenly the walls on either side of them—that had been present since they entered the archway Gandalf and Gimli had chosen—disappeared.

Emily, who had been running her hand along the wall as a way of keeping her balance in the dark almost fell when they did. This time it was Aragorn that stopped her from doing so. And as they moved out of the way, she heard Pippin cry out as he did the same thing that she had done moments before. But he managed to keep his feet by grabbing onto Emily's pack in the dark and would have pulled her down with him had Aragorn not have still had Emily by the arm. They heard Gandalf sigh loudly at the noise they had just made through their clumsiness but he said nothing.

"What happened to the wall, Gandalf?" Pippin asked, his curiosity getting the better of his common sense. "And where are we?"

"Well, Peregrin Took," Gandalf said, his voice showing his barely concealed agitation. "I believe that we have come to the Twenty-first Hall of the North End of the Old Kingdom. I am not certain, mind you. However I think this will be a good place to make camp tonight. In the morning I will know if that is here or not."

After that, Gandalf would say no more. Instead he sat a little apart from the group and stared into the darkness blowing smoke rings from his pipe. Occasionally he would change one of these into some unnatural color but the smile that this little act brought to his face was short lived. Even though he wasn't sure _when_ his death was to come, he knew that they had traversed more than two-thirds of their journey through Moria and that tomorrow would be the day.

The others, especially the hobbits, wondered at his weird mood. They had always known that Gandalf was quick to anger—as were all wizards if the sayings were to be believed—but there seemed to be more behind it than just a fiery temperament.

"Strider," Frodo asked quietly from the darkness trying to keep his words from Gandalf. "Why has he been so tense today? I have never seen him like this, not that I have spent much time with him outside of the Shire. But he seems different."

"Gandalf has much on his mind, Frodo," Aragorn replied sadly. "And much on his heart as well." Frodo nodded but said nothing more. However he did notice that Aragorn did not tell him that it would be fine in the end. He wondered what Aragorn knew about Gandalf that he did not but let the topic drop.

Somehow the size of the room was more disconcerting than the walled platform had been the night before. It led to the fellowship members huddling together in a corner, with their backs against the walls on either side. And that night, most of them slept leaning against the walls, and their neighbors, rather than stretched out on the floor as they normally would.

All except Gandalf. He had offered to take the first watch, but never woke any other to relieve him. He did not want to spend his last hours on this earth asleep. And when dawn broke the next morning and shone through the shafts and into the hall, he woke the rest, none of whom said anything about the fact that he had taken a nights worth of watches for himself. Something about his expression, perhaps the sorrow in his eyes, made him unapproachable.

"I was correct," he said softly. "We are now near the east gates of Moria, but we are high above them. Before night falls tonight, the fellowship will have made it out of Moria."

Something about his choice of words bothered Frodo. He had said "the fellowship" not "we." Frodo found himself wondering if Gandalf's temper came from the fact that he had no intention of ever leaving Moria before he rejected the idea. Gandalf was a wizard. He couldn't die.

After another meal of dried foodstuffs, the fellowship packed up and began the walk across the giant chamber. In the light of day it was revealed to be larger and more magnificent than any of them—including Gimli—had expected. The ceiling was impossibly high, and the room was filled with beautifully carved pillars that impressed even Legolas at the skill behind their making. It was once they got to the other side and realized that there were four doorways leading out that Emily felt her shoulders droop. She knew what was next. Even though he had been wary of her, her heart went out to Gimli who was about to discover that his cousin was dead.

"Which way should we go?" Pippin asked, looking at the three arches in curiosity.

"We are now North and above the gates so we need to go south and downward," Gandalf replied thoughfully. He hoped that his mental map of the Mines of Moria was still accurate.

"None of these paths appear to go downward," Boromir said leaning forward to try to see into the dimness of the tunnels.

"Then we must look for one that does," Gandalf snapped. "For downward and south is the path we must take."

"What about that room?" Merry asked pointing at a door to their right where a bright light was shining. "That could be an exit."

"Or a window," Gandalf said before walking towards the door. "Though I doubt that it is either. It is most likely sunlight coming from a shaft carved into the mountain. Why it was carved is of more interest to me than what it is."

_No, _Emily thought vehemently. She had no desire to see the tomb or the reaction the others would have to it.

Gimli, too, was loath to enter the chamber. He knew that such a shaft of sunlight could only mean that the room was the final resting place of one of his kin. Even so, he found that he was drawn to it. He knew that it was likely the tomb of his cousin, but he needed to see it for himself. Despite his mental preparation, seeing the name of his cousin carved into the stone covering the tomb was painful. He had many fond memories of the dwarf and knowing for certain that he was dead . . . he hated that he would have to be the one to carry the news to his kin.

He stood there looking at the words until he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. He was surprised to see Emily standing there, her eyes abnormally bright.

"I'm sorry for your loss," she said gently. He nodded in appreciation of her words, but said nothing in reply. There was nothing he could say. As he tried to look anywhere but at her, he realized that not only was this hall the tomb of Balin, but of many other dwarves. Their bodies were scattered around the room, unburied an un-mourned. He shook his head sadly. There were so few dwarves and for so many of them to be lost on such a venture was a shame. Moria had once been great, but now it was a dark place. And there was no chance of ever recovering it from the darkness.

It was then that he heard Gandalf speaking the last words written by the dwarves that had attempted to reclaim their kingdom.

"We cannot get out," Gandalf read. "There is nothing more here. Gimli, I feel that you should take this book. Return it to Dain when you can. He will want to know what became of the venture to retake Moria. Perhaps it will stop him from sending anyone else to attempt it." Gimli nodded and removed his pack to stow the fragile book.

Just as he finished the task, there was a resounding boom that shook the floor under their feet. Soon another followed it and other smaller booms began to accompany it. They were all looking around in confusion. Slowly it dawned on them that these were the "drums in the deep" that the dwarf scribe had spoken of. Even though they knew it was the truth, they could only hope that they were mistaken.

"What was that?" Emily asked. Even though she knew the answer she hoped that one of the others would offer another explanation. As the floor shook once more with the force of the drum beat Emily felt her heart rise up in her chest. This was the drums in the deep. The Balrog was coming.

**ooOO88OOoo**

**Well, there we are. Another chapter up. I hope you enjoyed it. As always thank you for reading and I would love to hear what you think. If you have time leave me a review.**

**I want to thank those of you that have added this to your favorites or alerts and to offer a special thank you to:**

**SunnySkies: ****I'm glad that you have enjoyed the set-up. And he couldn't keep it up there forever, especially with their chemistry. And Gimli will be coming around shortly . . . Sam, he may take a little more time. . . I hope you enjoyed this chapter as well.**

**Angel Bells:**** I couldn't resist the urge to put that in there. It seemed like the kind of thing that they would do. **

**muffincakes:**** I'm glad that you are enjoying it and hope that this last chapter lived up to your expectations.**

**19seventythree:**** I am glad that you decided to continue it. I generally dislike transformations as well, but I really needed to do it for a plot point later (it was not a gratuitous decision to make her a more ideal human being) but I am glad that my writing style was enough to allow you to ignore it and continue reading. I'm rather fond of Boromir as well and hate how often he gets the short end of the stick in FF. He isn't a bad guy, a little gruff and impulsive, yes. Pigheaded, sure. But not bad. I hope you enjoyed this chapter too even though there was little Boromir/Emily action.**

**Padme4000:**** It was good. I have heard that a lot of people didn't like it, but I did (even if I may have jumped on a doomed ship as a result). I am glad that you enjoyed it. The two of them are fun to write together. And we'll have some fun with the bridge . . . though fun probably isn't the right word there. . . anyway it is not the length that matters so much as the quality. And I get you on the laptop thing, my screen is trying to go out. Darn thing keeps flickering.**

**Reader-anonymous-writer****: Not a whole lot of good. Or against orc scimitars . . . but as I've said before, she is a bit of an idiot. I'm glad that I was able to amuse you, even slightly. Thank you for your review and I hope you enjoyed this chapter**

**Ilovelotr:**** I'm glad that you think so! And you don't have to wait hardly at all this week. And don't worry. They will get together soon-ish ;) **

**As always, thank you for taking the time to read this chapter. Leave me a review if you have time and feel so inclined,**

**Stickdonkeys**


	14. Bloody Hands and Sorrow

The fellowship looked around as the floor shook once more. They only stood there for a moment before they sprang into action and began attempting to force the doors shut.

"We cannot get shut in!" Gandalf yelled. "Close the door to the hall we came from but leave the other open."

"We cannot risk that, Gandalf," Aragorn argued. "If they come from that direction—"

"Then we are doomed already," Gandalf replied. "We cannot stand against all the orcs in Moria on two fronts. The door being open or shut will make no difference. Leave it." Though it was obvious that he disagreed, he left the other door ajar and moved to help Boromir move the doors that led from the hall.

"Wait one moment," Gandalf said before he walked to the thin crack that was left and stuck his staff through before letting out a flash of light. With a sigh he pulled himself back in and nodded for them to finish closing the door. He was slightly relieved. Though there were many, it was only orcs, Urks, and a few trolls that were assaulting them. They did stand a chance of coming thought this alive after all. He relayed the information to the others and saw grim determination settle into their faces. They were prepared to fight for their lives.

Emily wasn't ready. She was terrified. Not only were the drums that were shaking the cavern giving her a headache, but the high screams of the orcs and the horns they were blowing were not helping matters. She felt nauseous at the idea of being caught in the middle of another battle, and knew that the door would not provide the same bottleneck that the water had earlier. She glanced around anxiously, looking for anything that she could use to defend herself once they were in. She didn't know what she would _do_ with a weapon, but she knew that she would feel better with one in her hand.

Seeing her stoop to pick up a broken orc scimitar, Gimli stopped her and instead handed her a discarded dwarf ax.

"I can't take this," she replied shaking her head. While she had no doubt that it was better made than the orc weapon, she couldn't use the ax knowing that the last person to wield it was now dead. The death of an orc didn't really bother her, but the death of a dwarf she had never met . . . she was afraid that taking his weapon would dishonor his memory.

"Take it," Gimli said gruffly, pressing the handle of the weapon into her hand. "The previous owner would be proud to know that his weapon is still shedding the blood of orcs and being used to avenge his death, even if it is in the hands of a she-elf."

"Do as he says," Frodo whispered knowing that elvish senses were sharper than dwarven ones as he had had more experience with dwarves than most of the company with the exception of Gandalf and, of course Gimi. "To do otherwise would insult him and his kin's memory."

With a small nod of thank to Frodo to show that she had heard him she looked at Gimli. "I would be honored to help avenge your kin," she said grasping the ax firmly. She wasn't sure that she had done the right thing, but he nodded and turned to face the door once more. The smile that Gandalf was giving her showed that he approved of her actions. She bit her lip hoping that she would be able to avenge Gimli's kin without injuring one of the others or needing avenged herself. Despite what she had thought, holding a weapon did not make her feel any better.

She didn't have long to worry, however, for at that moment, the scaly foot and shoulder of a cave troll managed to force their way through the door. She was shocked, it was _huge._ Suddenly she heard a hobbit voice yell and saw Frodo diving forward and stabbing the creature in the foot. She had to admit that she was surprised that he had done it; she couldn't remember Frodo _ever_ doing anything like that in the movie.

But as valiant and unexpected as his action had been, in the end it didn't do anything. The door was still forced open and the room still began to fill with orcs. Soon, everyone was fighting and once more the sounds of swords cleaving flesh and cries of agony filled the air. This battle was worse than the battle with the wargs had been. This time there was more chaos, more participants and—even thought she hadn't thought it was possible—more blood. Thankfully, the only blood that Emily had seen yet was the black blood of orcs. All of the fellowship seemed to have remained uninjured so far and she was hoping that if she could stay out of the way it would remain that way.

She was cowering in the back of the room, near their escape route, hoping that none of the orcs would notice her if she was quiet. But she should have known better. She had been lucky so far, but after a particularly gruesome wound to the belly of an orc by Pippin that cause the orc's intestines to spill out she couldn't restrain herself and had to vomit. It was just too much.

She heard the sound of feet moving towards her as she tried to blink away the tears that had risen with the contents of her stomach. Opening her eyes, she saw a giant orc headed her way, scimitar raised and shrieking a battle cry. Raising the ax that she still held, she brought it down in an arc that managed to remove one of the orc's hands. She felt her gorge rise once more at the feeling transmitted through the handle and into her hands of the ax head passing though flesh. A fact that wasn't helped by the black blood that spurted out to cover her own hands. All she could do was stare at it.

She dropped her weapon in shock. She had just drawn blood. There was literally blood on her hands. It didn't matter that it wasn't the red blood she was used to, it was still blood. And she had shed it. Thankfully, the orc was almost as shocked as she was. It hadn't expected her to fight. It was this surprise, and the pain of its missing hand, that kept it from killing her long enough for Boromir to see the danger she was in and dispatch the orc before it could do damage to Emily.

"Never drop your weapon," he snapped, pressing it back into her shaking hands before returning to the fray. Thankfully nothing else noticed her in the shadows, because she was still in shock, staring at the corpse in front of her and realizing that she had had a hand in killing it. She was startled back into the present by an anguished cry from Sam and looked up just in time to see Aragorn chop the head of an orc in half, spraying grey matter and blood into the air, before he rushed over and scooped and unconscious Frodo from the ground.

"Quickly!" Gandalf called "Down the stairs. I will try to block their passage."

"We will not leave you," Aragorn said preparing to hand the hobbit off to another. He knew that Gandalf's death was soon to come and would stay and try to prevent it if he could.

"Go!" Gandalf ordered. "Swords will do no more here. I will at least slow them to cover your escape. Do not worry. Orcs will not be the end of me." His last words were said with a vicious smile that almost made Emily feel sorry for the orcs . . . almost.

She knew that he was right, orcs would not kill him, but she still felt bad about leaving the old wizard to face them alone. She could tell that the others felt the same way, but they were prepared to follow his orders. It was only when she felt a hand grasp her elbow and begin leading her down the stairs that she took her eyes off the wizard.

"Watch your step," Boromir hissed in her ear. "That ax you carry is extremely sharp and would gut us both if you were to fall."

"I'll keep that in mind," she said absently more focused on keeping her footing than talking to him. That was the last thing she needed reminded of at the moment. Stairs had always been the bane of her existence and now she was trying to hurry down crumbling stairs, in the dark, with an ax that was sharp enough to cleave bone with little effort. She didn't need him to remind her of the consequences if she fell.

But she needn't have worried. They reached the end of the stairs without catastrophe and stopped there to wait for Gandalf to join them. Every fiber of her being disliked the idea of staying still when there were orcs chasing them, but the others had stopped to wait and she couldn't go on without them. They didn't need to wait long. Soon, with a boom followed by the sound of an avalanche, Gandalf landed at the bottom of the stairs in a heap. Legolas helped him to his feet and the wizard leaned on his staff breathing deeply.

"I do not believe that we need to fear pursuit from behind as the room has caved in, but we must move so that they do not head us off and ambush us," Gandalf said before moving to the front of the company wearily. "We will have to do without light for a time. There was something at the door that resisted me. It was powerful and the struggle was brutal and I am weary and cannot manage light at the moment."

So it was that the fellowship set off in the final sprint to through Moria in the dark, pausing only once for Gandalf to rest and to see to Frodo, who had woken and assured everyone that he was fine, injured but fine. After that brief rest, they continued their journey, the air growing warmer as they traveled farther down the tunnel.

"_Ghâsh_," Gandalf muttered as he walked. "Fire. Did they mean that the lower levels were on fire?" His rhetorical question was answered as they entered a giant chamber. On one side, it dropped into a pit and on the other, there was a wall of fire that—thankfully—was separating them from the army of orcs.

Emily breathed a sigh of relief. She didn't remember a wall of fire from the movies. Much like with the wargs, things had changed. Maybe they had changed enough that Gandalf would not die. Her hopes were dashed as the army of orcs parted to allow a giant shadow to pass.

"Ai!" Legolas called from beside her. "A balrog!"

"Durin's Bane," Gimli breathed. Fear and anger shot through him at his first glimpse of the beast that had killed so many of his kin. His fists clinched at the desire to do something to avenge them, but he knew that this was the beast that had nearly bested Gandalf. He would stand no chance against it.

"Quickly! Across the bridge," Gandalf ordered, still facing the Balrog. "If it is still daylight outside we stand a chance of escape. Move!"

With fear and guilt flooding their veins, the fellowship began the crossing. The bridge was narrow, and while it was crosshatched for traction and wide enough to walk, it was still a dangerous place to be. Especially when speed was needed, as was the case here. Despite this, all the members made it safely across. Save for Gandalf, who had stopped in the middle and stood tall, glaring at the shadow that was the Balrog.

"No," Emily gasped, attempting to turn back only to be stopped by Legolas.

"Have faith," He said, an accent she hadn't noticed before coloring his words due to his emotion. "Mithrandir knows what he is doing."

"You don't understand," she looked up at him with tear-filled eyes, begging him wordlessly to do something to stop the future she couldn't warn his about from happening. "We have to do something to help him."

At her words, Aragorn glanced up at her sharply. He hadn't known that she knew of the prophecy as well. But she seemed to be certain that this would be the fall of Gandalf. Suddenly her words around the fire made sense. Emily had the gift of foresight. She knew what would befall Gandalf in the mines. He wondered what else she knew.

Emily didn't notice his speculating glance. Her attention was riveted on the form of Gandalf standing alone in the middle of the bridge looking far smaller than she had thought he would in the face of the Balrog. She fought against Legolas's hold as Gandalf and the Balrog battled. Her struggles redoubled when Gandalf smote the bridge and it was everything he could do to restrain her as the wizard fell into the pit, pulled in by the beast he had thrown down.

Legolas felt shock settle into his gut. He hadn't expected that the wizard would fail. Gandalf had been so powerful. If he could fall, what did that say about the fate of the company in general? The others were thinking similar dark thoughts, those who were not too shocked by seeing Gandalf's death to think at all.

"Come," Aragorn said, his voice choked with unshed tears. Even knowing that this was coming had not made it easier. "We must move. Gandalf's sacrifice has bought us time but we must place many leagues between the mountains and ourselves before nightfall if it is not to have been in vain. We will mourn, but now is not the time or the place to do so."

So it was that the fellowship was once more reduced to nine as they left the long dark of Moria. There had been much death and despair in that place and it clung to them as the fled into the daylight. The fellowship could only hope that distance and time would ease the ache left in their hearts by their foolish choice to venture past the gates of Moria.

Even Gimli, who had desired to look into the Mirrormere, had no desire to do so now. All he now desired was to place as much distance between him and the cursed place as he could. His heart was heavy not only for the loss of Gandalf and his kin but also with shame for his behavior towards the girl. She had been proven right about the dangers of Moria. Giving her the ax had been the first step of his apology, but he knew that once they were safe he would have to offer her a true apology.

**ooOO88OOoo**

Once they had managed to place some distance between themselves and the mountains, and Frodo and Sam had begun to lag due to their injuries, Aragorn called a halt and all of the fellowship gladly stopped beside a stream to cleanse themselves of the blood and gore of battle and assess their injuries. Aragorn was personally tending to the hobbits before he saw to himself.

It was with a sob that Emily dropped to her knees beside the stream and began scrubbing her hands. Even once the blood was gone, she continued scrubbing. She could still feel it. The warm wetness of the blood as it had sprayed onto her hands and the way it had itched as it had begun drying. She could feel it even if she couldn't see it. Even once her skin began to turn red from the force she was exerting on it she continued, crying as she did so. She tried to tell herself that it had been an orc and in self defense . . . but was that enough of an excuse to take a life?

She only stopped scrubbing when another, larger pair of hands stopped her. She looked up from the hands encasing her own to see Boromir—now clean of the blood that had been covering him—looking down at her gently. He did not need to ask what she was doing. He remembered how he had felt after he had killed his first orc. He knew what she was feeling.

"Emily," he said. "You have done nothing wrong. You did what was required of you to survive. Nothing more. There is no fault in that."

"But," she gasped tears still falling from her haunted eyes. "His blood . . . it was on me . . . because of me. It's my fault."

"Yes," Boromir replied. There was no other answer he could give. The orc's blood had been shed by Emily's hands. "However it was what you had to do. He would have killed you had you not have done it. There is no shame in having blood on your hands from that situation."

"But—"

"No," he said gently but firmly. "We are at war. The time will come again when you will be forced to choose between shedding blood and dying. You must be willing to choose the first. I know it is hard to know that you have taken a life. Just remember that they are evil and would kill everything and everyone you love without a second glance. It will help."

He reached over and gently brushed her tears from her cheeks with the pad of his thumb, surprised at how soft her skin felt beneath his hand. "Shed no more tears for this," he said. "Orcs are not deserving of them." She gave a small hiccup but nodded in agreement. He hadn't moved his hand once he finished wiping away her tears and she felt herself lean into his hand slightly. She told herself that it was because she was feeling fragile from making her first kill and seeing someone she knew die, but deep down she knew that was not the case.

Boromir cleared his throat as he felt her lean into his hand. "I am afraid that I owe you an apology," he said trying to change the subject and break the moment between them at the same time. He wasn't sure why, but something about this strange young woman called to him.

"What for?" Emily asked pulling away and looking at him curiously.

"I doubted you," He continued. "The reason I cast my vote for the Mines of Moria was because you were against it and I assumed that anywhere you did not wish to go would be a good place for the company to go. For this, I apologize."

"You don't need to," she said with a sad smile. "In your position, I would have doubted me too. My appearance in the middle of nowhere _was_ suspicious. You didn't do anything wrong. Though you were a bit of a jackass at first."

Her words confused him. Her tone had been light, almost teasing at the end, but the words had made no sense. He knew what an ass was, but what was a jackass? And how had he been one?

"Does that mean that you accept my apology?" he asked genuinely curious. He had thought that was what she had meant, but he was not sure.

"Yeah," she said with a smile. "I suppose it does." He returned her smile and the two of them sat in a companionable silence until Aragorn called for the company to move out once more.

**ooOO88OOoo**

**There we are y'all another chapter. The next chapter will be Lothlórien. And that'll probably be all for it. Maybe it'll get two chapters . . . we'll have to see how it works out. I know that they actually spend about a month there, but there's not really a whole lot that I can do with that. I mean, I could, but I think it would get dull rather quickly. However if you disagree, feel free to leave me a review with your opinion on the matter.**

**As always thank you to everyone who took the time to read, favorite, or add this story to their alerts. And a special thank you to:**

**Reader-anonymous-writer:**** Thank you for your review!**

**Angel Bells: ****I'm glad that you like that aspect. And he will be surprised . . . as will they all (especially poor Boromir) and how do you think she did?**

**RaraCloe:**** I'm glad that you are enjoying it! And I figured that there was no way that the movie would have been "historically" accurate . . . and perhaps the book was not either depending on how things will go later. And I am glad that you enjoy my writing style.**

**Ilovelotr****: Thank you so much! And I agree with you on the pacing. I was a little worried when I realized that we just finished with Moria and are already 14 chapters in. I would greatly appreciate it if you tell me if it does begin to. I would hate to let that happen when it can easily be adjusted. I hope you enjoyed the latest update.**

**Guest:**** Yep. . . I wonder how long it will take the two of them to realize it as well. **

**Padme4000:**** I thought you would like that :) That's why I tend to read fanfic alone. . . laughing or snorting or even grinning gets some very strange looks from the family. I thought that the conversation would be a good touch. I actually wanted to put the bit about the age game in a couple of chapters ago, but it didn't fit well and this seemed like a good place for it. And I've been in caves. Time really does move strangely and even after only a few hours seeing the sun is a relief. That was the other thing that bothers me about nth walker fics. Moria would be creepy as hell not simply a walk in the dark. And I gave it a reread before I started this fic so that I could try to stay close, but things are a bit out of order here and I can't be helping with your confusion either. And I hear you on the screen. If I wasn't so stubborn, I would have just bought a new one by now, as is I'm just bearing with it and working off a flashdrive so I lose nothing when it dies.**

**SSJKarigan:**** I'm glad that you loved it! I was trying to get some fluff in there before this chapter. And we will soon have some more Boromir/Emily stuff. I worked a little in here, but there will be loads more to come. **

**As always, thank you for reading. I would love to hear what you think so feel free to leave me a review if you have the time and/or inclination. **

**Stickdonkeys**


	15. Trees Houses and Tears

As the shadows began to lengthen, Aragorn sped their pace once more. It seemed that he had a destination in mind and was determined that they reach it before nightfall. Most of the fellowship was stumbling with weariness by this time but they doggedly tried to keep up. However, three nights of fitful sleep and high anxiety were beginning to take their toll. Despite her best efforts, Emily could feel her eyes drooping even as she jogged along and she was not the only one with this compliant.

"Aragorn," Boromir called after he had set Pippin back on his feet for the third time in as many minutes. "Let us rest here for the night. We can continue at first light. We will do Middle Earth no good if we run ourselves to death."

Aragorn stopped long enough to turn and face the fellowship and take in their weary—and in the case of Frodo, pained—expressions.

"I am sorry," he said, his sincerity evident in his tone and face. "I know you are weary. However we cannot halt yet. Come nightfall the orcs will be free to move. We stand no chance against hordes, weary as we are. Our only hope is to reach the woods of Lothlórien."

"Lothlórien!?" Boromir spat, the word sounding like a curse. "I would rather face the hordes of orcs than set foot in that treacherous place."

"Lothlórien is not treacherous!" Legolas snapped. Usually he would have forgiven the Man for his ignorance, but he too was weary and his heart was heavy at the loss of Gandalf. "It is the fairest dwelling of my people left on this side of the sea."

"Forgive me if I do not find comfort in that thought," Gimli said harshly. "For I still remember the "welcome" my father received at the hands of your people."

Aragorn pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation. "I assure you, Gimli, the same welcome does not await you in the Golden Wood," he promised. "Though I will understand if you refuse to accompany us. You have grim tidings to carry home. The same goes for you all," he continued looking pointedly at Boromir. "I will lead the fellowship into Lothlórien. You may come, or not, as you see fit. However, time is short and we have wasted too much time in discussion already."

With that he set off once again on the path to Lothlórien and the safety of the protection of the elves that dwelt therein. It was with much grumbling that Boromir and Gimli followed. Even though they had both heard tales of the dangers of the Golden Wood, they reasoned that there was no way the Wood could be more dangerous than the mines they had just escaped.

**ooOO88OOoo**

Night had truly fallen by the time Aragorn allowed them to rest. They were now under the cover of trees and off the main path sitting beside a river. Only Legolas still seemed to have energy left. The rest of the fellowship had waned as the day passed into night. He, contrarily, only seemed to have waxed as they entered the forest almost as if he had drawn sustenance from the woods themselves. He was merrily telling any who cared to listen of the importance of the stream they were sitting by and the wonders of the Lothlórien which such enthusiasm that the accent Emily had noticed for the first time at the bridge was back once more.

She smiled weakly at his joy before leaning against the tree behind her. Unlike Legolas, the second she was told that she could, Emily sank to the ground not even bothering to take her pack off first. She knew that they would not be stopping for long, since Aragorn has said that it would be a brief rest, but even so she could not help the way her head listed forward as she listened to Legolas sing. The melody was soothing, almost like a lullaby.

She didn't remember falling asleep, but she must have because one moment Legolas was singing and the next there was a hand on her arm shaking her roughly awake.

"I apologize," Boromir said smiling down at her. "I tried to wake you more gently, but you did not stir." She looked up at him in confusion. Why was he waking her? It wasn't daylight yet. Did he want her to take a watch?

"Whazamatter?" she mumbled not even noticing that he had absolutely no idea what she had just asked.

"Come," he said offering her a hand and wondering if she was actually awake enough to travel. She tended to say strange things, but they at least were generally coherent if incomprehensible. Her last utterance had been neither comprehensible nor coherent.

"Aragorn says we must move deeper into the forest before we rest," he explained when she made no sign of moving. She made a little noise of protest, but took the offered hand and sighed as she realized that it would be some time before she could get back to sleep.

"Are a hundred yards more or less going to matter?" she grumbled making sure that she had everything she had had before she fell asleep and stooping to retrieve her ax from where she had leaned it against the tree.

He wasn't sure what a yard was, but he understood that she was protesting the move. "I do not believe so," Boromir replied. He knew that orcs mostly hunted by scent so distance from the path would not ensure their safety. Crossing the stream had been a good idea, but the straight line would provide them no cover from the trackers. Unless the gates of Lothlórien were near, they would still have to fight before dawn if the orcs did follow them.

"Perhaps not," Aragorn replied joining their conversation. "However it is worth the effort." Emily blushed as she realized that he was listening. It wasn't that she didn't trust him, her brain just hadn't caught back up with the situation. She wanted to apologize, but she wasn't sure that it would be appreciated. So instead she walked in silence, following Aragorn who seemed to know where he was going.

"Are we headed to a safe-house or something like that?" Emily asked eventually to attempt to break the tension she felt even if no one else seemed to.

"Silvan elves do not build houses, or we did not," Legolas replied. "Unless those in Lothlórien have also changed their habits out of necessity, there will be no structures here."

"Then where do they live?" Pippin asked. He had heard that elves like to be able to see the stars, but even they had to desire to come in sometime.

"In the trees," Legolas explained. "It provides them with protection without requiring them to build walls and disrupt forest life."

"Like birds?" Sam asked skeptically. "How can they live in trees like that? I can't see where they would offer any protection."

"Living in trees might be a wiser thing than attempting to build with stone in this environment," Gimli admitted grudgingly. "It would also give the advantage of being higher than any attack. It is a wise strategy."

"And one that may benefit us tonight," Aragorn said suddenly with a smile. He hadn't thought of seeking refuge in the trees and was attempting to find a place that would be easily defensible from the orcs he knew would come. "Legolas?"

"I have never climbed tress of this kind, but I would be more than willing to attempt it," the elf said with a smile before leaping up to grab a branch above his head.

"And what about the rest of us?" Sam mumbled knowing that he could not reach that branch, even if lifted. "I knew I would want rope if I didn't bring it." Frodo smiled and shook his head at the other hobbit.

Suddenly there was a harsh word said from the tree above Legolas. And he dropped to the ground. "Stay still," he cautioned. "Keep your hands where they can be seen." Once that was finished, he looked up at the tree and spoke, his words the strange elvish spoken by silvan elves. Though she couldn't understand his words, Emily could tell that he was attempting to explain something to the other speaker, and the other speaker seemed reluctant to accept his words.

Finally he turned back to the fellowship. "They desire to speak to Frodo and myself in private," he said. "And they request that the rest of you remain here. We will return shortly." With that he nodded to Frodo who began to climb the rope ladder that had been thrown down to them and made no move to stop Sam when he followed on Frodo's heels.

"What do you suppose that was about?" Emily whispered to Boromir once they disappeared into the cover of the leaves.

"I do not know," he replied with a worried glance at the tree. "We can only hope that whatever decision they come to is for the good of the fellowship rather than our detriment."

"Do not fear," Aragorn said cutting into their conversation. "Legolas will secure our safety for the night. Wait and see. We must trust him." At his words, Gimli muttered something under his breath that sounded as though he doubted Legolas' ability to secure anything. Slowly, more of them began to doubt whether this would end in their favor as the more time that could be classified as "shortly" passed.

Eventually Legolas reappeared without Sam and Frodo. "They will permit us to rest on the lofts tonight," he said with a smile. "Merry, Pippin, they ask that you join Sam and Frodo in this tree. The rest of us will be given space in the next tree over."

"Up there?" Merry asked looking at the tree as though it had threatened him.

"Yes," Legolas replied. "Unless you would prefer to dig a hole for the night. But you will have to dig quickly to hide from the orcs. The tree would allow you to rest more quickly." Even though Merry could not argue with his logic, it was with anxiety flooding his veins that he climbed the ladder to the crown of the tree. It was a long way to fall.

Emily did not share his concern. She knew that once she had a place rest she would not move from it until she was forced to do so. Her concern was how she was going to climb the ladder with her pack and her weapon without cutting herself or anyone else. She was looking at her purse and wondering if it would fit.

"Hand that to me, lass," Gimli said unexpectedly from beside her. She jumped slightly before she did as he asked. He took the ax and pulled a length of string from his pack which he tied through eyelets that were in the handle before he helped her place it across her shoulders so that it was safe to carry without fear of cutting herself.

"Thank you," she said with a smile. His kindness surprised her. In response he just nodded, and gestured for her to climb the ladder. She took a deep breath and began the climb. All she was looking forward to at this point was a safe place to pass the night. And she fully intended to sleep straight though to dawn.

**ooOO88OOoo**

She awoke some time later. The sky was still dark and at first she wondered what had woken her. Then she heard it again: the sound of someone crying quietly. She squinted through the darkness. She could see a figure sitting on the other side of the loft. Standing and carefully walking around the sleeping forms of Gimli and Boromir she made her way over to the man.

"Are you ok?" she asked sitting beside Aragorn. He looked at her with a sad smile.

"No," he replied looking away. "I am not." He was silent, but he did not need to tell her why he was upset.

"There wasn't anything you could have done," she said thinking that he would need to hear it from someone else.

"No," he agreed. "That fact is a cold comfort in the face of his death. That I am not at fault for it does not make the loss easier to bear. I miss him already. I wish I knew what path he intended us to take from here. There are many things I wish we would have spoken of, and not all of them pertain to the quest."

"I . . ." she started before she decided that it wasn't the right approach. She sighed and said nothing. There was nothing that she could say that would make it hurt any less. She simply sat beside him as he stared into the darkness hoping that her presence would offer him some comfort.

After some time had passed, his voice came from the darkness. "You should rest. We still have much distance we need to cover tomorrow."

"In that case, you should sleep too," Emily replied with a smile. "You're only human."

"That is true," he replied with the ghost of a laugh. "Come, let us rest while we may."

**ooOO88OOoo**

The next time she awoke, it truly was dawn. This morning, however, it was not one of the other members of the fellowship that woke her—for they were still sleeping—but the singing of birds. She squinted up at them before she sat up and stretched. Even if they were being obnoxiously loud so early in the morning, it was still better than her alarm clock. That little comparison, as simple as it sounded awoke a longing in Emily. She missed home. She missed the comfort of knowing where her next meal would come from and that it would be a hot one. She missed _not_ having to worry that something would jump out of some dark place and eat her. More than that, she missed her friends.

While it was true that she had grown fond of all the guys—more than fond on case—she still missed her friends and family. They had so much in common, unlike her and the fellowship. True, they had come to enjoy her presence, but she was still a liability. At home that was not an issue. She also missed the ability to have a conversation with someone without both people ending up confused by the differences in word choice. She was also sick of getting strange looks, first because she dropped into the middle of a quest from a port-a-john and got turned into an elf, and then because she kept saying and doing strange things. At home, none of that would have ever happened.

She heard a quiet sob rise up her own throat before she could stop it. She hated herself for her weakness. She shouldn't be crying about this! There were more important things going on than her being homesick—or so she tried to convince herself. But without the distraction of running for her life and in the quiet trees of Lothlórien she couldn't seem to keep in mind that the fate of Middle Earth rested on their shoulders. Especially since she did not truly feel she belonged. She had no place with warriors and kings.

When she did not wake the others with the first, she allowed another sob to escape her. There was no harm in crying while she was alone. If they were awake she would be ashamed, they were away from their homes as well and none of them had cried about it, but as it was, she just let the tears fall. She had figured that she would have a little cry and then be fine, but once she started she was unable to stop. When she heard one of the others stir, she tried to force back her tears, but instead of complying, they only intensified. She hoped that he was only rolling in his sleep but her hopes were in vain.

"Emily?" Boromir asked, sitting up and looking at her. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," she lied trying to regain control of herself. "I'm fine."

"Are you still upset about the orc?" Boromir asked moving to sit beside her. She shook her head not trusting her voice to not crack. "It is Gandalf, then, that grieves you?" She shook her head again. She was sad that Gandalf had died, but it was not what had upset her. That realization made her feel even more guilty and selfish. There were real reasons to be sad that trumped homesickness and _that_ was what she chose to cry over.

"No," she whispered, her shame making volume impossible. "That's not it."

"What is the cause then?" he asked looking more closely at her. She did not appear to be wounded in any way. It was once he saw her eyes that he realized the cause of her sadness. They were filled with the same longing that filled his heart: she desired to see her home once more.

"Oh," he said softly. Emily blushed and looked away. Once she realized that he knew she was too embarrassed to look him in the eye. He placed a hand gently under her chin and applied a light pressure until she turned her head back to look at him once more.

"There is no shame in this," he promised. "We all long for home and the safety and security it provides. We long for our families and other familiar faces. And I am sure that Legolas and Gimli long for people who speak their languages. There is no shame in shedding tears for a home that you may never see again."

"But," she tried to say, being reminded of the last time she had cried and been comforted by him, "there is so much else going on. There are real tragedies and I'm crying over this. I'm selfish and weak."

"No," he replied. "You are human . . . or were. Emotions are not a weakness. Do you think that any of us would be here if we did not care for our homes? Do you think that we would fight as fiercely if we did not have something to fight for? No. The longing and love of our homes is not a weakness. It is what gives us strength to endure. Embrace it and use the strength you hope of seeing it once more affords you."

She was about to reply when they were interrupted by Aragorn. He had heard the entire conversation and, while he approved of what Boromir had said, figured that it was best to intervene before this went any farther than it already had. Nothing untoward had happened yet, and he intended to keep it that way until Emily had had the time necessary to process her feelings and decide if this was what she wanted. So far, everything had been happening so quickly that she had to feel overwhelmed. For now, he would do what he could to slow their progress. He had felt as though her words might have been a declaration of intent that would be difficult to retract at a later date.

"Come," he said. "It is time that we rouse the others and continue our journey." He personally woke Legolas, taking the time to whisper to the elf about the budding romance in the fellowship and recruiting him to help slow it down. The elf had no objections to the task.

By the time they were back on the ground the hobbits were waiting for them as were three elves. One of them—Haldir his name was—looked disdainfully at Gimli before his eyes roamed the rest of the fellowship widening in shock as he took in Emily. Never before had he seen a red-haired elf maiden—let alone one carrying a dwarven battle ax. He bowed and greeted her formally and apologized for his surprise at her appearance.

"Um . . . hi?" Emily said slowly. She hadn't understood a word the Elf had said, though she did recognize the more common form of Elvish that she had heard Aragorn and Legolas use before. At her use of the common tongue, Haldir looked at Legolas in shock.

"It is a long story, my friend," Legolas said using the Silvan dialect once more. "It would be best if I tell you while we walk." Haldir nodded and led the fellowship through the trackless forest while Legolas walked beside him and told him of Emily's strange appearance and the stranger circumstances that had followed it. The more he heard, the more confused Haldir became. First random girls drop into Middle Earth and then a Dwarf seeks refuge in Lothlórien . . . what else could happen that would make the day more interesting?

**ooOO88OOoo**

**There we are all, a new chapter. I hope you enjoyed it.**

**As always, thank you for taking the time to read this story and thank you to those of you who have added it to your favorites or alerts.**

**And a special thank you to:**

**Angel Bells:**** Yep. Bonding time! And Aragorn knows lots more than he lets on. . . Thank you so much and I hope you enjoyed the newest chapter**

**Padme4000:**** It doesn't, does it? I think the mine might almost be worse. The caves I was in were not wet, only dark and even then I was glad to see the sun. I am glad that you enjoyed that. I tried to make it as realistic as I could (having never chopped off someone's hand myself). The feeling of knowing that you killed something is hard to deal with, even if it is a animal (I went deer hunting ONCE) I can only imagine how much harder it would be to kill a humanoid creature. And for me up stairs is harder than down as well. As to the film vs reality comparison, as someone pointed out, she is so far out of her element that it makes sense. It is the only thing she knows that is even close to what is currently happening. And thank you. I felt like it needed a little levity and there is no way that she would break her speech patterns so quickly (it drives me nuts too).**

**Katia0203:**** I can easily do a few chapters in Lothlórien. I was just worried about flow and things becoming boring. There is a lot of potential there for fun/meaningful character interactions.**

**FranzF:**** Thank you! And don't worry there will be lots more Boromir and Emily :) and I am glad that you are enjoying it so far! I'm sorry that it wasn't soon, but it is an update I hope it was worth the wait.**

**SunnySkies:**** He couldn't stay a popsickle for ever. And I agree, poor Emily :( I am at least kind enough that I will not kill Boromir off at the falls. He will live past that at least. But she really may not like the repercussions of his survival :(**

**Wanderling:**** Thank you so much! I will keep writing as long as there is a story to tell :)**

**Ilovelotr:**** That seems to be the consensus among the voters so we will have a couple of Lothlórien chapters to develop the inter-character relationships a bit more. I am glad that you are enjoying their relationship. I feel so sorry for him in most fics he really gets the short end of the stick. And it will definitely be a Boromance. I will never abandon it and at the most it will be a couple of weeks between updates. I promise.**

**SSJKarigan:**** Thank you! I try to stay as real as I can when messing in a fantasy world. And that is a real urge. I occasionally do the same because where is the fun of a cowering hero/heroine? I had to put a bit of fluff in didn't I? I had just written the death of a cannon character it's kinda like the Bambi's mom to singing birds transition ;). I hope you enjoyed the newest chapter as well.**

**Intoxicatedasphyxiation:**__**I'm glad that I have you thinking about it and hope that you enjoy the path I have chosen for her once we get there. **

**19seventythree: ****I'm glad that you are enjoying it! I agreed with you and now that they are safe for a while I will try to work in a little more homesick angst for her. Especially since Galadrial is coming up and provides a potential source of answers to angst at. I hope you enjoyed the little bit that I slipped into this chapter :)**

**That's all for now, folks. Thank you for taking the time to read my story. I would appreciate it if you will leave me a review if you have the time and/or feel inclined to do so.**

**Stickdonkeys**


	16. Blindfolds, Khuzdul and Battle Axes

Haldir soon wished he would never have wondered how things could become more interesting. After they had crossed the Celebrant—which had been entertaining enough to watch—things had only gotten worse. He had not expected the statement that the dwarf would have to continue from there blindfolded to cause such a stir. You would have thought that he had said that the dwarf had to be trussed up like a boar for all the fuss he was making about it.

"Did I not tell you this would happen?" Gimli demanded glaring up at Aragorn and fingering his ax. "Did I not say that this would be my fate at the hands of elves!? And did you not give me your word that I would not be ill-treated?"

"That was not his promise to give," Haldir said hoping to diffuse the situation and only serving to add fuel to the flames. As his words left his mouth, he watched the ranger's shoulder droop and realized, belatedly, that he should have held his tongue.

"It is not my choice either," Haldir continued hoping that he could appease the dwarf if he continued speaking. "It is the law of the realm that outsiders may not walk freely under the wood before the Lord and Lady permit it. I am sorry."

"What of the hobbits?" Gimli demanded shifting his glare from Aragorn to the marchwarden. "They too are outsiders. What of Boromir, Aragorn, Emily or even Legolas? The entire fellowship consists of outsiders yet you choose only to blind me!"

"Aragorn is known to us and has the blessing of the Lady," Haldir replied stubbornly unimpressed by the dwarf's show of temper. "As to the others, they—"

"Will consent to be blindfolded as well," Aragorn cut in knowing that if he allowed the marchwarden to finish his sentence bloodshed _would_ follow.

"I will do no such thing!" Legolas snapped at the ranger in elvish—his anger taking his ability to continue the conversation in the common tongue. "I am a kinsman here. I will not be deprived of the privilege of looking on Lothlórien due to the stubborn pride of a dwarf!"

"I will consent to be blinded if only Legolas will share my fate," Gimli replied with a smile hidden in his beard. He wasn't sure what the elf had said but it was clear that he did not agree with the suggestion. It was not much in the face of what his father had suffered at the hands of Legolas' father, but depriving the elf of something he desired would be a small revenge.

"We are a fellowship," Aragorn said firmly, cutting off Legolas' indignant reply. "As we have shared all dangers so far, so shall we share this indignantly. Come, Haldir, bind my eyes first to show Gimli that you will cause him no harm." As he finished speaking, he turned his back to the elf.

Haldir sighed and did as he was told and began to bind the eyes of the company. When he came to Gimli, however, the dwarf stopped him.

"I will consent to this only if you allow her to be the one to take my sight," he said pointing at Emily. "She is the only elf who has shown no aversion to my presence and the only one I will allow to have me in such a vulnerable position." Haldir considered it for a moment before he nodded and gestured for Emily to come forward and handed her the length of cloth.

Emily looked down at the dwarf with confusion in her eyes. He wanted _her _to do it? She bit her lip as she hoped that he would not hold it against her later. When he saw her hesitation, Gimli gave her a reassuring smile.

"It'll be alright, lass," he said. "Just mind that you do not pull my hair." She laughed nervously, unsure if he was kidding or not before she bent over to tie the cloth around his eyes. She only hoped that she didn't tie it too tightly and hurt him. She had never blindfolded someone before.

No one else offered a protest to the unpleasant task save for Legolas and even then it was nothing more than a deep sigh as his eyes were covered.

"Do not worry, my friend," Aragorn said with a smile that few could see on his face evident in his words. "I am certain that once we have spoken with the Lord and Lady they will give you leave to wander in the Golden Wood to your heart's content." Legolas said nothing in reply, but his displeasure at the situation was palpable.

Now the only fellowship member still possessing sight was Emily. Haldir had considered it immoral to bind the eyes of an elleth—even a strange one—so he had left the task to the end. However, with no one else left, the time had come to do so.

"I beg your pardon for what I must now do, my lady," he offered in the common tongue before he covered her eyes. Even though he knew he should not, he tied the cloth more gently than he had any other. For him this was nothing more than a mere formality. They had no need to fear her.

With that done, he began to lead them along the path. Each of the fellowship members walked behind him, grasping the shoulder or elbow of the one in front of them, as was appropriate for their heights, and dragging their feet out of fear of tripping over some obstacle even though the path was both level and smooth. Haldir knew that to those watching from the trees above they must be a comedic sight, but mercifully no laughter could be heard from above.

It would have been difficult to say who was more relieved when word came from the Lady that the fellowship was to be allowed to walk freely through the forest. He sighed with gratitude as his brother moved to free Emily and he knelt in front of the dwarf.

"I offer you my sincerest apologies for the indignantly to which I had to subject you," Haldir said looking the dwarf squarely in the eyes. "I hope that this will not hinder you enjoyment of the remainder of your time in Lothlórien." The dwarf nodded to acknowledge that he had heard it but said nothing. The apology had confused him. It was the last thing he had expected from an Elf. Again he wondered if his prejudice against elves was misguided but rather than examine that too closely, he looked around.

Even Gimli, who had little appreciation for forests, had to admit that it was beautiful. The silver trunks were as smooth and shimmering as polished quartz and he wondered if, perhaps, these trees had provided the inspiration for some dwarvish architecture. He knew that there had once been cultural exchanges between their races before the relationships had turned sour. Perhaps these silvery columns of trees had been part of that exchange.

While Gimli was lost in thought about a past he had no knowledge of, Aragorn was lost in memories of the time thirty-eight years ago when he had spent time in the Wood. Lothlórien had remained the same, untouched by time, and in the woods he could almost imagine he was young again. He smiled fondly as he remembered pleasant times before the fate of the world rested in his hands.

**ooOO88OOoo**

Haldir led them on for some time. Eventually they came to a gate in the wall to their right and were admitted once he knocked. Inside the walls, the forest was even more spectacular than it had been from the outside. The trees were larger and more widely spaced than they had been outside. It was odd, though, for Emily to see so many people.

The entire time she had been there, she had seen no one outside of the fellowship and now she was in the middle of a city. Even though this should have been a comfort to her, she was more uncomfortable now that she had been when it had just been them in the wilds. The elves, though they attempted to be discrete about it, were sneaking glances at the motley crew that was the fellowship and even though she couldn't understand what was said, something told her that they were discussing the fellowship.

She was relieved when they reached the tree in which the Lord and Lady lived, since it would at least get them out of the prying eyes of the rest of the elves. She didn't even mind when Haldir told them that it would be a long climb. _How long can it be?_ She thought with a wry smile._ It's only a tree. It can't be that big._ She figured that, at most, the climb would take them ten minutes. She was wrong.

She hadn't taken into account that this was not to be a straight climb, but rather a spiral up the trunk of the tree. Every so often, there was a rest stop built onto the pathway, but the rest of the fellowship walked determinately on so she never dared to stop and rest, even once her thighs were begging her to do so. If they could do it, so could she. She stayed as close to the trunk as she could, both because it made the distance a little less and because there was no rail on the path and she didn't want to fall to her death if she managed to trip. She knew that she had thought it many times during the trip so far, but she had never been happier than when the path leveled out into a giant platform.

"Welcome," a silver haired elf said in a quiet voice that held power despite its lack of volume. "I am confused. We had received word from Rivendell that nine of you, including Mithrandir had departed on a quest and may be coming to us. There are nine of you here, but he is not among you. Was the message in error?"

"No," Aragorn replied, "the messenger did not err. Gandalf _did_ leave Rivendell with us." Aragorn knew that he would have to tell Celeborn and Galadriel what had befallen Gandalf but was loathe to do so.

"Then where is he?" Celeborn demanded. "There are many things he and I must speak of before you continue your journey."

Aragorn paused and considered his words carefully. He wasn't sure how to best tell the elf lord that Gandalf was dead. "He fell," Aragorn said finally deciding that the direct approach was best. "In Moria. He fell covering our retreat from . . . I do not know what it was. A being of fire and shadow."

"It was a Balrog of Morgoth," Legolas supplied.

"A Balrog?" the Lord of Lothlórien demanded. "Are you certain?" At Legolas' nod he shook his head and sighed. "Had I have known _that_ was what the dwarves awoke I would have sent you on your way without welcome."

"No," Galadriel interjected her tone both gentle and firm at the same time. "We will not repent of or welcome to the dwarf. He had no hand in awakening it. And even if he did have a hand in convincing Mithrandir to enter Moria, can you say that if we had been exiled from Lórien you would pass near them and not attempt to gaze on them even if the Dark Lord himself had set up residence here.

"No," she continued. "We can no fault him for desiring to look upon the halls of his fathers. Once great were the halls of Khazad-dûm with their many pillars and lights, and cold yet fair are the waters of Kibil-nâla and Kheled-zâram. I hope the sight of them filled you with joy, though they—like much else—are now diminished from the glory they once possessed."

Hearing the realm of his ancestors praised by the Elf Lady warmed Gilmi's heart. The fact that she respected his culture enough to use the place names of his people rather than those in the common tongue or her own language meant much to him and with a smile on his face he bowed deeply to show his gratitude.

"In honesty, My Lady," Gimli said surprised that he could feel such affection for an elf, "the sight did not give me near the gladness as your kind words and beauty have. The ruins of Khazad-dûm cannot compare to the wonder that is the Lady Galadriel and the fair city in which she dwells."

The others looked at him in surprise at his words. Gimli had shown nothing but disdain for elves, with the possible exception of Emily. His praise of the Lady of Lórien was altogether unexpected. The only one not shocked was Galadriel herself. She simply smiled and inclined her head at his compliments before she began speaking to the group once more. While she was doing so, she held the gaze of each member of the fellowship. Emily didn't understand why they all seemed so uncomfortable under her gaze until it was her turn.

_Welcome Emily,_ she heard Galadriel's voice in her mind. _We have much to discuss, you and I. Now is neither the time nor the place, however we will speak soon. I may be able to answer some of your questions if you will answer some of mine in turn. _Emily felt as though Galadriel was not looking into her eyes but into her soul and it was an uncomfortable sensation. Unable to say anything, she looked into the ancient eyes of the elf and nodded. Then her gaze moved on and Emily could breathe once more.

Even so, she couldn't understand what the Lady could possibly need to know that Emily had the answer to. How could she know something that someone who was capable of _telepathy _didn't? Even so, if it would get her the answers she needed, she would tell the elf anything she wanted to know.

**ooOO88OOoo**

Sometime later, as they were resting in the pavilion the elves had provided for them—Emily having refused a private one on the grounds that she was so used to the fellowship that sleeping alone would be difficult—the saddest music Emily had ever heard began flowing through the clearing. Even without being able to understand the words, the sorrow was tangible. She felt tears sting her eyes at the sound and was surprised to see that the music had caused the same reaction in most of the fellowship.

Once the song had finished, Pippin looked at Legolas. "What was that song about?" the hobbit asked. "It was so sad."

"It was about Gandalf," Legoals replied, his words thick with his sorrow. "It told of his deeds in life and of his heroic death. More than that I cannot tell you. For me the loss is still too near to be able to translate it for you." No one knew how to respond to his words and so they sat in silence until sleep slowly began to take them all. Despite the loss they had just experienced, that night they slept deeply, content in the knowledge that they were safe behind the walls of Caras Galadhon.

**ooOO88OOoo**

The next few days passed slowly. It was strange for them to have nothing they needed to do and nowhere that they needed to go. They felt a sense of urgency to continue the quest, but that sense faded as they spent time in Lothórien. Soon, despite the fact that they knew they must leave soon, they settled into a pattern of rest and preparation for the next leg of the journey.

Part of this preparation consisted of teaching the hobbits and Emily how to use their weapons more skillfully. The first and second day it had only been the hobbits training while Emily watched with curiosity. She had been shocked at how fierce they looked when brandishing weapons. Despite their small size, she knew that they could potentially be deadly. She would never have expected that, even after Frodo had stabbed the foot in the mines.

The third day, after Aragorn returned from a meeting with the elves, Emily had been included in this training. It turned out that the meeting had been on the subject of Emily: namely what to do with her now that she was somewhere safe. Aragorn had gone to request that the elves allow her to stay in Lothlórien under their protection, a request the Lady Galadriel had denied. She had felt that it was unwise to leave behind someone who the Valar had sent to them and was unswayed by Aragorn's insistence that Emily was not a warrior and that it would be better to keep her safe than to risk her life on the quest.

"Use your time here to teach her to defend herself," the Lady had replied with a kind smile. "She will prove a great asset, I believe."

So it was that Emily now found herself standing in front of Gimli, both of them holding axes that had been padded so that they could be swung at full force without causing any more damage that a painful bruise. She eyed him carefully. She didn't want to attack him. It seemed wrong to swing a weapon that she had seen cut off a hand at a friend—padded or no.

"I can't," she said lowering the ax for the fourth time. "I can't do it." Gimli sighed. They had been at this for some time and she had not taken a single swing at him with the weapon. He had already corrected the way she held it but it was clear that she still felt awkward holding the weapon.

"You haven't tried," Gimli replied allowing his exasperation to show. "Perhaps you can if you will only try."

"No," she replied with a stubbornness that Gimli had never seen outside of his own kin. "I can't do it. I can't just _attack_ you!" It was then that he had an idea. If she would not attack, perhaps she would defend herself if he attacked her. Without offering her warning first, he raised his own ax and closed the distance between them. Despite her shock, she adapted well and managed to block his first swing before getting knocked in the ribs by the second. She doubled over and coughed as she attempted to regain her breath.

"You would now be dead," Gimli said simply. "Again." She looked at him incredulously. He expected her to go again? After he just smacked her with an ax? Was he crazy? He said nothing but raised an eyebrow and took a step back before he raised his ax in preparation for round two. It went no better than the first one had. Again she managed to block the initial attack, though the blow sent shockwaves up her arms, but the second hit her in the thigh.

"You would die again," Gimli informed her. "Without your leg you would lay helpless until an enemy mercifully ended your suffering or you bled to death. Again." After a few more tries, the problem became apparent. Despite the fact that she had fairly decent reflexes, Emily was unable to block the second attack because the ax was too heavy. She did not have the strength to change its path rapidly enough to protect herself from more than one blow. When she failed to block even the first blow, Gimli called a rest.

They sat together under a tree, Emily rubbing her various bruises and Gimli looking at her appraisingly. She shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, but said nothing. Even if she resented him for bruising her, she knew that he was only trying to help.

"We may need to reevaluate your weapon of choice," Gimli said after a bit. "That ax may not be appropriate. I had not taken into consideration your ability to use it when I offered it to you. I will still teach you how to use it if the need arises, but it would be wise if we find you a different main weapon. A lighter weapon."

"Are you sure?" Emily asked. She didn't want a weapon at all—not now that she knew what they were capable of—but she did not want to insult him in some way that she didn't even know about by agreeing to take a different weapon than the one he had given her.

"Aye," Gimli said with a nod. "The only way you could continued to use that ax would be to treat it like a two-handed ax—which it is not—and it would severely inhibit your range and place you at greater risk. Keep it as a gift, and use it at need but you need something that you can actually _use_. If we were nearer my home I would have something suitable forged for you, but as it is I suppose elven smiths will have to suffice."

"Why?" Emily asked suddenly. It had been bothering her for some time, but the question finally boiled out before she could stop it. She hadn't really intended to ask why his attitude had changed so suddenly towards her, it had almost been a bipolar shift and she was left confused.

"Because there are no dwarvish smiths to be found for many leagues," he answered. He had forgotten that she knew little about the geography of Middle Earth.

"That's not what I mean," she explained. She knew that she could have let it go at that, but now that it was out, she wanted the answer. "Why are you taking such an interest in my weapons? And why did you tell Haldir that you trust me? You hated me before we entered Moria, why the sudden change?"

Gimli sighed. The dwarf had hoped that she would never ask the questions she now was. Despite his promise to himself that he would apologize to her, it was hard for the proud dwarf to bring himself to apologize to a elf, especially when taking an interest in her survival had been the way he had intended to do it. He knew that he could ignore her questions and restart practice, but it felt wrong to do so.

"It is my way of apologizing for the way I behaved towards you when you first appeared," he said eventually. "I thought that giving you a fighting chance at survival on the remainder of the quest would be better than any apology I could offer. While I was not wrong to distrust you with the knowledge we had, I was wrong to be cruel about it. And for that, I apologize."

Silence met his words. Emily had no idea _how_ she was supposed to accept the apology of a dwarf! Nothing she had seen had prepared her for this. She didn't even know how to accept an apology at all in this world. What if she said the wrong thing and ruined everything?

"Thank you?" she said tentatively. "I shouldn't have said anything about it. I should have just been thankfull that you were taking the time to do it. And I don't blame you. I did drop in suspiciously. And I can tell that you don't really like elves, so that couldn't have helped. If you don't mind me asking, why is that? You seem to hate Legolas especially . . . or you _did_. What happened?"

Gimli sighed again and for a moment Emily worried that she had botched the whole thing, but then he smiled and said, "I suppose you should know how the quest you are on now began and understand at least some of the tension within the fellowship." He then proceeded to tell her of the quest to reclaim the Lonely Mountain that had taken place seventy-eight years before. How his father and eleven other dwarves, along with Frodo's uncle Bilbo, had followed Thorin Oakenshield on the quest. And how they had been captured and imprisoned by Legolas' father when they tried to ask for food and aid from the elves, only to be freed by Bilbo and eventually reclaim the mountain—with help from Bard of Laketown—only to have the elves show up and demand part of the treasure with the threat of war if they would not share.

"Did you ever ask Legolas why they did that?" Emily asked once he had finished talking. She had heard the story of before, but she had not realized that Gimli was connected to it. Even at the time she had wondered if there was a motivation for the actions that she did not know because it had seemed like a strange thing to do. She also didn't know that Legolas was connected to that action. Maybe it was all just a big misunderstanding. She couldn't see Legolas being cruel for no reason and doubted that his father was either.

"There is no justification they can give," Gimli snarled. "My father and the others were weakened from spider poison and rather than offer them aid, they threw them into dungeons. There is no way to explain an action like that." Legolas sighed at his words. He had come searching for Emily and had stopped when he heard what they were discussing. He had always felt that they had erred by imprisoning the dwarves, but they had had little information at the time and none of the dwarves would tell them anything. He did have to admit that it relieved him to learn how they had escaped. No one had ever found out.

"The woods were beginning to grow dark," Legolas said sadly. Emily and Gimli both jumped at the unexpected sound of his voice. He looked at the dwarf begging him to listen to his words. "The spiders had come within less than a league of our city and then our parties were repeatedly interrupted by armed dwarves leaping into the middle without a word of warning. The people at the parties were unarmed and afraid. They rushed to my father and reported them.

"In response, he sent his guards to bring the dwarves to him to attempt to determine why they accosted our people," Legolas explained his eyes sad as he remembered the situation. "If they would have told us they were attempting to retake the mountain, we would have given them food and care and sent them on their way, even though we would have known that they would most likely die in the attempt. We too would have benefited through the death of the dragon. As it was, they would say nothing about _why_ they were in our kingdom. We feared that they were spies of the evil that was already beginning to brew in our forest."

"Why they were there was none of your business!" Gimli snapped. He couldn't believe that the elf prince would _dare_ to blame that situation on the dwarves.

"Yes it was," Legolas replied, growing angry in his own turn. "They were in our forest, using our road and frightening our people. The road used by any who traveled through Mirkwood at the time was to the south. We did not know that Beorn had sent them down the path they came: a path that led directly past the gates of our city. His name alone would have granted them safe passage even without them telling us of their quest.

"I know that we erred in our handling of the situation," Legolas continued in a sadder tone. "I also know that my apology will mean little to you so instead I will offer you a question: how would your people treat a band of armed outsiders who walked uninvited into the gates of Lonely Mountain and refused to declare their purpose?" Gimli gave no answer, but he did not need to. The question was one for him to think on, not to respond to. And think on it he did. The more he thought, the more he realized that the elves of Mirkwood had done nothing more than anyone else would have done in the situation and, as much as it pained him to realize it, they had not done it out of their hatred for dwarves, but for the love of their own people. He sighed again before he looked at the Elf Prince and bowed his head. It was not a apology, or a sign of forgiveness, but a sign of understanding.

Legolas smiled, understanding the gesture for what it was, and returned it with a slight bow of his own.

**ooOO88OOoo**

**Well, there we are all! We may have one more chapter of interactions in Lothlórien and then we will most likely be on our way again. . . not sure yet but that is the current plan. I hope you enjoyed this one! We will see some more Boromir/Emily interaction in the next chapter, but this was a conversation that I feel like needed to take place before they could ever become friends. I hope you all don't mind too much that I went with it.**

**Thank you to everyone who takes the time to read this story and thank you to those of you who had added it to your favorites or alerts.**

**A special thank you to:**

**Wanderling:**** It'll be a blast to watch them try :) That thread will get picked back up shortly, but I felt that Legolas and Gimli deserved a chapter for now. Thank you, and I hope you liked this one as well :)**

**Intoxicatedasphyxiation: ****I hope to do justice by the Lord and Lady of Lothlórien in the next chapter. Hopefully you do not mind awaiting their words for a little longer. **

**Ilovelotr:**** I'm glad that you liked that! And they will take flight soon—despite the best efforts of Legolas and Aragorn. ;) Even though he wasn't in this one, I hope you enjoyed it.**

**19seventythree:**** Thank you! And you're right about that. We will see more of the homesickness pop up—with a vengeance—after her chat with Galadriel. Home will feature prominently in that discussion and will open up some wounds that Emily doesn't even know are there. And I'll bet that a certain Gondorian will be able to be nearby ;)**

**SSJKarigan: **** I try to read the chapter that they are about to be going through a couple of days before I write so that the actual book plotline is fresher in my mind that the plot that Emily knows so we can accentuate the changes. And I'm glad that reading the book also helps you to enjoy this fic :) I'm glad that you are enjoying the fluff. And hope that the next chapter was worth the wait.**

**Reader-anonymous-writer: **** that was part of the reason he helped her :) and I am glad that I was able to amuse you and sorry—yet proud—that I saddened you with Emily's plight. Thank you for your review and I hope you enjoyed this chapter as well.**

**Aeirlys:**** I'm glad that you decided to continue reading even after it was not what you had expected it to be. I'm glad that you are liking Emily and her "normalness" (and it could be wavy red hair if you wish). I'm also glad that you appreciated that little touch on my part. I love the books and have many friends who only ever saw the movie. I thought it would be interesting if one of them landed in middle earth and had to work off the knowledge they had—little as it is. Where would the fun be if she knows everything that I know? And she's seen all three, but even so seeing someone die—even though she knows that he will come back or at least was **_**going **_**to (I promise he will but she can't be sure of that after all the things that have already changed)—is hard. Especially with the trauma that she had experienced in seeing two battles in a few short days. I hope you enjoyed this new chapter as well.**

**Luke: ****Thank you! And the fact that he likes Emily is actually going to add fuel to the fire because now he will not only have his city, his family and himself but Emily to think of as well. That is not a scene that I am looking forward to writing even though I know I will have to. But Amon Hen will be . . . interesting to say the least. I hope the newest chapter was worth the wait.**

**Padme4000:**** Thank you! And that is no problem. You at least took the time to write one :) I am glad that you are enjoying the character interactions. I tried to take them slowly since people don't just instantly click most of the time. There is tension, testing of boundaries and eventually an equilibrium—or at least that is how I tend to interact with people—so I tried to keep that feel here. I am glad that you think I have done a good job of developing relationships between them. I hope you enjoyed the interaction between Legolas and Gimli this chapter it was a discussion I felt that the **_**needed**_** to have.**

**Guest: ****Thank you! I hope you enjoyed the newest chapter as well.**

**That's all for now folks. I hope you enjoyed it and would love to hear what you think (even if you didn't like it) so leave me a review if you have the time and/or inclination,**

**Stickdonkeys**


	17. Swords and Bitter Truths

As Gimli had said, he, through the medium of Legolas and Aragorn, request a blade be made for Emily. She had to admit that she had been surprised at all the preparation that went into it even before they began forging the blade. She had always assumed that a sword was a sword and anyone could use any sword they picked up, but apparently that was not true. The Elven smiths came and took countless measurements of her hands and arms and even went as far as to take a mould of her grip before they were content to begin. By the time they left, she was feeling more like a science experiment than a person.

It was everything that Gimli could do to keep himself from following them to ensure that it was done properly. Even the assurances of Aragorn that the elves of Lothlórien were capable smiths did nothing to curb his desire. He couldn't see the point in teaching her how to defend herself if the weapon was not adequate. In the end the only thing that convinced him to leave them to do it was the fact that no one else in the company could teach Emily how to properly wield the ax.

Under his tutelage she had slowly begun to improve as the days wore on and she grew in strength. She would never be proficient with it, but at least she could now block numerous attacks if she used both hands. He was pleased with the progress she had made but her reluctance to attack bothered him.

"You cannot stay on the defensive!" Gimli barked between blows. "You will be weaker than almost any opponent we face. You have to attack and kill them at your first opportunity or you _will_ die." He saw the grimace that crossed her face at his words but could not feel sorrow at causing it. It was a hard truth of battle and one that it was better she learn here than on the field of battle at the cost of her life. To reinforce the lesson, rather than stop when she began to tire as he always had, he took advantage of the holes she left in her defenses to land blows. He continued until he saw the chance to knock her off her feet and place his ax symbolically at her throat.

"I know," she snarled from the ground, glaring up at him as he raised an eyebrow. "I'd be dead." He didn't laugh but she could see the amusement in his eyes as he removed his ax from her throat and extended a hand to help her up. She shook her head as she took his hand and stood rubbing her new bruises.

"God!" she mumbled before she glared at him. "I understand you were trying to prove something but did you have to be so rough about it?"

"Yes," he answered with a shrug. "How can you expect to learn defend yourself if I go easy on you? Will the enemy move more slowly or call their attacks because you are a novice? No. They will take advantage of your inexperience to cut you down."

"But the hobbits—"

"Are learning from a Man," Gimli cut her off. "And they are learning a different weapon. Axes and swords require different strategies to learn and use. With a sword if you are not in the proper place to block and attack the block will fail. Axes are more forgiving and more instinctive. Only practice will prepare you to fight with an ax.

"It is this, and the knowledge that coddling novices leads to their death the first time they face a true opponent, that has lead to the dwarven method of training," Gimli explained.

Emily stared at him. She hadn't thought of it that way. She had thought that he was doing it just to punish her for refusing to attack not so that he could try to show her what to expect in battle in a semi-safe environment. She was embarrassed to have thought him capable of that.

"I'm sorry," she said sheepishly. He waved off her apology. He remembered what it had been like when his father and his cousin Dwalin had been teaching him to fight. He had thought their goal was to beat him to death and he had protested their tutelage more vehemently than Emily had—even going as far as to threaten them with the wrath of his mother and Dwalin's wife. It had been then that they had explained their methods. Yes, he understood her frustrations.

"Manage to defeat me and we will forget about it," he replied hoping that having his forgiveness as a carrot would work as an incentive to get her to attack. He raised his ax once more and nodded for her to do the same. She sighed deeply before she mirrored his posture. _So much for resting up and healing wounds before the next stage,_ she thought wearily before they began to spar again.

**ooOO88OOoo**

That night, as she returned to the pavilion to get a change of clothes to take a bath and attempt to inventory her newest bruises, she had decided that Dwarves just might be evil after all. She was sore and stiff and even bending to dig through the pack the elves had brought her was difficult. She had just gotten a dress out and was digging once more to find a clean pair of pants when a hand holding a shirt was suddenly in her line of sight. She looked at it confusion and followed the arm up to see Boromir looking down at her.

"Thank you," she said pushing the shirt back towards him, "but I already have a shirt."

"I am aware of that," he replied showing her the holes in the sleeve of the shirt where the Warg's teeth had pierced the fabric. "It is in need of repair."

"Then why are you handing that to me?" she asked her confusion showing in her eyes.

"Are you not the fellowship's seamstress?" Boromir asked moving the shirt back towards her once more. He was confused by the disgusted expression that crossed her face at the words.

"What?" she demanded incredulously. She hadn't realized that was an ongoing appointment. No one had handed her anything to repair since that first night and she had assumed that her task was a onetime thing.

"Why can't you do it yourself?" she asked.

"Because it is your job," Boromir replied as though it was the simplest thing in the world. And really it was. It was the task that she had been assigned and he was not sure why she was so reluctant to repair his clothing. Had he done something to offend her?

She raised an eyebrow at his tone and scoffed before she said, "I thought that the Elves were taking care of all of that while we are here."

"They are," he replied uncertainly. "However, I feel that I am already encroaching on their hospitality enough that I should not request they do something this minor. Besides," he said in a softer voice looking into her brown eyes, "I would prefer it if you would repair it for me." Rather than reply she decided that she didn't need pants and grabbed her dress and stood before marching out of camp.

"What did I say that offended her?" Boromir asked, looking at Aragorn with wide eyes. Most women that he knew would be flattered to be asked to repair clothing for a man they were interested in—and he believed that she was interested in him. Other than paid seamstresses, women only repaired clothing for those they cared about. In Gondor, asking a woman to repair some small flaw in a garment was a soft way of declaring intent that held no binding element. To refuse to do so was to refuse the affections of the other. He felt the sting of rejection well within him even though he knew that she might not know of the custom.

"I know not," Aragorn replied, knowing of the Gondorian tradition and fighting his smile as he realized that he and Legolas may not be required to interfere after all. Emily and Boromir seemed to be doing well enough at slowing things down on their own.

"Women are inscrutable creatures, my friend," Aragorn continued with a soft smile. "They tend to take offence easily and once they have will not discuss it until they are provoked."

"I believe she may be one of the most inscrutable of them all," Boromir said with a sigh and a sad look in the direction she had gone, the disgusted look she had shot him before she was out of sight replaying in his head.

**ooOO88OOoo**

When Emily returned after her bath she was feeling a bit better than she had before she left and feeling guilty for storming off in the middle of a conversation. Not sure how to apologize, or even if she should, she walked over to where Boromir was sitting with the hobbits and showing them how to sharpen a sword. He looked up as she neared, his gaze cool, and raised an eyebrow as he waited for her to speak.

"Have you taken care of your shirt yet?" she asked rubbing her arms awkwardly as she looked into his impassive eyes and wondering what she had done to cause such a change.

"No," he replied his word clipped. "Why?"

"Give it to me," she said looking away as she did. "I have nothing better to do this evening. I'll fix it for you."

"No," he replied hurt by the tone she had used and her words. She did not know what it was that she was offering to do and he would not have her do it without the proper motivation behind it. "I will not force you to do something you find _distasteful_ just because you have nothing else to do. I will repair it myself once I am finished here."

"Just give me the damn shirt," she snapped not liking his tone. He acted as though she had rejected him not refused to sew a shirt. Sudden understanding dawned and she felt her eyes widen. Had she rejected him? Was this like when little boys picked on girls they liked because they liked them? Oh, hell. She hadn't meant to do that.

"No," he repeated having not seen her epiphany since he had shifted his gaze back to his sword.

"Please," she said in a softer voice placing her hand on his arm. "Please, let me fix it. I didn't mean to upset you." He glanced up at her touch and saw that her brown eyes were soft with an emotion that he couldn't quite place. Rather than say anything he nodded and picked up the shirt from beside him on the bench and handed it to her. He was surprised when she settled herself on the ground beside him and began to repair the shirt with a needle he hadn't seen that she had. He smiled at the top of her head before he resumed his own task thinking that he could grow accustomed to spending his evenings this way and wondering what he could do to damage more clothing.

**ooOO88OOoo**

They had been in Lothlórien for nearly two weeks one of the Elven smiths came to their pavilion one evening. He carried with him a package that he handed to Emily. Inside was not only the sword that they had requested but also a pair of daggers that matched it. Emily lifted them carefully from the box—even though she knew them to be nearly indestructible—and slowly pulled the sword from the scabbard to look at it. She didn't know why she did it. She knew nothing about swords, but she thought it would be expected of her to at least check the work.

"It's beautiful," she whispered looking at the smith in awe. It was true, the blade was flawless with small flowers etched into it and the handle had been inlaid with a silvery metal—there was no way it was actually silver—and had been shaped perfectly to match her hand.

"Thank you, Milady," the smith replied with a bow. "I felt that even if it is to serve a grim purpose you should have something that is beautiful as well as practical. I am glad that my work pleases you."

"It does," she said feeling tears sting her eyes that someone who doesn't even know her would take the time to craft something beautiful for her rather than do the bare minimum that was required to accomplish the task. "I wish there was something I could do for you, I don't even have money to pay you."

"I require nothing more from you than your gratitude," the Elf replied a smile on his face. "The weapons are a gift from the Lord and Lady, I have been compensated for them already. I only hope that they will serve you well." Once he quit speaking, he bowed to her before he left the pavilion.

After he was out of earshot, the others crowded around to inspect Emily's gifts. None could find fault in the work—even Gimli though he checked rather thoroughly before declaring that the Elf had done well.

"Now all that is left is for you to learn to use them," Aragorn said looking at Emily with a soft smile. "I will begin your lessons tomorrow." Emily nodded tensely trying not to let her trepidation show. Gimli had told her that swords were more difficult than axes and she hadn't even managed to do that correctly. She knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was going to make a fool of herself the next day.

**ooOO88OOoo**

She hadn't been wrong. Her first practice with Aragorn hadn't gone well. Nor had many of her subsequent practices. He seemed to believe that she was making progress, but she didn't see it. Any time that she thought she had it she made some mistake that enabled him to disarm her. She hadn't even managed to last five minutes. When she had expressed her frustration with her rate at which she was acquiring skills Aragorn had only laughed.

"I have been wielding a sword for more years than you have been alive," he said smiling down at her. "You cannot expect to master it in a few short days."

"But I should at least be able to keep my sword in my hand," Emily insisted. "Gimli never took my ax from me."

"Ax combat is different," Aragorn said patiently. "The goal there is not to disarm but to land a killing blow. With swords it is better to disarm an opponent before killing them because it reduces the risk to yourself. That is not to say that you should not take the kill if you see it, only that you should disarm an enemy first if you are able."

"I don't understand," she replied. "Why should I try to disarm someone if I'm only going to kill them? Wouldn't it be faster to kill them and move on?"

"Let me show you," he replied sheathing his own sword and picking up a stave he had leaned against a nearby tree before tossing her another. "Sheathe your sword. We will train with these for a time." He took his position across from her, holding the stave like he would hold a sword. She took her position across from him, feeling decidedly silly standing in a clearing brandishing a stick. He nodded and she took a deep breath before attacking him. It was easier to do with a stick than it had been with a sword. There was no risk of her _truly _hurting him—or the other way around as would be more likely.

She was excited when she saw a way through his defenses and moved to take advantage of it. Just as she felt her stave make contact with his torso she felt her own breath leave her as he managed to strike her while her stave was otherwise occupied. She pulled back rubbing her stomach with a grimace.

"Do you understand now?" he asked his voice harder than she had ever heard it. Like Gimli he disliked hurting her but knew that it was necessary and would gladly do it if it would help save her life at a later date. "Enemies do not die the moment your sword pierces them. They can still injure you—even mortally. A stab wound that will kill them is not the end of the conflict. If they do not have a sword they cannot wound you."

"I get it now," she gasped. "What if I can't get them to drop their sword? What do I do then?"

"If you cannot force them to drop their sword," Aragorn said, his voice still hard since he knew that she would not like the answer, "then take the hand that holds it. Either that or take their head. The first option will minimize your threat of injury and the second neutralize it. Also, never leave an enemy alive. If you wound it, take the time to kill it. A wounded enemy may still be able to attack once your back is turned."

Emily nodded to show that she understood. She didn't trust her voice at the moment. All this talk of beheading and dismembering made her queasy. She could still remember the feeling of the orc's blood on her hands and the sound the ax made as it passed through flesh and bone. Even thinking about it made her feel faint.

"Again?" Aragorn asked, his eyes soft. He had seen her face pale and knew where her thoughts had gone. He hoped to distract her from those thoughts by occupying her mind with something else. Not for the first time he hoped that the Lady Galadriel knew what she was doing by refusing to keep Emily in Lothlórien. The girl had no business in the middle of a war. She did not need to see warfare and take part in more bloodshed but there would be no way for her to avoid it if she continued the quest. The road would grow dark before the end and there was no guarantee that any of them would live to see the dawn.

**ooOO88OOoo**

Time passed strangely in Lothlórien and before they realized it nearly a month had passed. By that time, the fellowship had settled into an easy pattern of activities. They alternated between weapon's training and relaxing pursuits during the day and spent their evenings trading stories and songs having almost forgotten the darkness that was growing outside the forests surrounded as they were by the magic of Caras Galadhon.

Emily and the hobbits had reached the point where the other members of the fellowship felt that they would at least not die in the first five minutes of a battle though they were not sure how long they could last. Which was a good thing because even though no one had spoken of leaving they knew that it would have to happen soon. Time was short and they had lingered in Lothlórien longer than they should have already.

One evening, rather than trade stories, they discussed their need to move on soon. It was as Legolas mentioned that it had been nearly a month that something occurred to Emily. She had not realized it had been that long. She knew that it was foolish, but for some reason she though it had only been a few weeks not a month. Doing some quick calculations in her head she realized that she had been in Middle Earth for over a month . . . and during that time _something _had been missing. As she thought about it, she realized that she should have started about the time they entered Moria, but nearly a month had passed since then and nothing had come.

She knew that she had to look shocked and hoped that no one else noticed as she wasn't sure how she could explain this to them. Especially since she didn't understand it herself. She couldn't be pregnant. That was off the table entirely so there had to be another explanation. She had heard that stress could delay it, and she supposed that _this_ could definitely be considered a stressful situation but she wished that there was someone—some _female _someone—she could ask about the monthly cycles of Elves.

Almost as if her thoughts had summoned her, a female elf walked into the pavilion at that exact moment.

"I am sorry to disturb you," she said slowly, the words stilted and accented in a way that suggested she was not accustomed to speaking the common tongue. "The Lady Galadriel has requested the presence of Emily, if you can spare her." Emily looked at Aragorn questioningly and at his nod stood and followed the strange elf out of the pavilion and into the heart of the city. She said nothing more and Emily was reluctant to break the silence. At the foot of one of the great trees the elf stopped and gestured for Emily to continue into a pavilion that had been erected there.

"She is waiting for you," the elf said before turning and walking off a little way to give them privacy. Feeling exceedingly nervous, Emily moved forward and entered the pavilion.

"Welcome, Emily," Galadriel said offering her hand to the younger woman and leading her to a bench. "Make yourself comfortable. I hope you have enjoyed your stay here so far."

"I have," Emily replied. "Thank you. Your city is beautiful." Galadriel smiled warmly in response.

"Thank you. We try to keep it that way. However the time may soon come when we are unable to do so," Galadriel said her smile fading as she spoke. "The shadow that has fallen on Middle Earth will not leave us unscathed indefinitely." She paused and a distant look came into her eyes as she stared past Emily.

"However," she said suddenly shaking her head slightly, "that is not what we are here to discuss, is it?"

"And what are were here to discuss?" Emily asked warily.

"Why, you, my dear," Galadriel replied her tone light and a smile on her ageless face. "Why do you think the Valar chose to send you to us, Emily?"

"I don't know," Emily said with a shrug. "I don't have any skills. I don't know anything more about this world than anyone else in my time does. I don't know why they picked me. Do you?" At the question, Galadriel laughed, a light sound.

"I? No. I do not know the minds of the Valar. They do as they please," the Elf Lady replied a slight bitterness to her tone that Emily did not understand. "I had hoped that you might know. Anyway, it is of little consequence. You are here now and that is all that matters. Tell me of your home."

Emily thought a moment before she began to speak. She told the Lady of her home. Her family and friends, the little things that she remembered now that they were gone. She worried that she would bore her, but the Lady continued to watch her with interested eyes so Emily kept talking. Even once the tears began to fall, she continued to talk until she could think of nothing else to say.

"You miss them," Galadriel said once Emily finally finished. Emily nodded and sniffled a little. She felt foolish again. Crying in front of such a powerful woman. The Lady must think her nothing more than a child. A foolish, selfish child.

"I'm sorry," Emily apologized, wiping angrily at the tears still falling down her cheeks. "I know I shouldn't cry but I miss them so much and I don't know if I will ever get to see them again."

"You may not," Galadriel answered honestly. "I have never heard of the Valar bringing someone into this world from another. There may be no way for you to return home." At her words, Emily felt her heart break. She had been counting on the other woman to tell her that there was a way for her to return home, not that there may be no hope of it happening.

"But there may be," the Lady continued placing a hand on Emily's shoulder. "There are many outcomes and many choices to be made. I can foresee nothing of how your part in this quest will end. That is why I have taken so long to call you to me. I have been trying to discover something of your origins but my sight has been veiled. I can offer you no advice on how to proceed." Seeing Emily shift uncomfortably Galadriel sighed.

"I am sorry," she said. "I know that I did not have a hand in bringing you here, but I am sorry that you must now endure it. If there is any way that I can ease your burden all you need do is ask."

"Well," Emily said slowly. She hated to ask such a crass question of such a refined woman but she didn't see where she had another alternative. "There is one thing I would like to know."

"What is that, my dear?"

"Well . . . um . . . I'm not sure how to phrase this," Emily began, biting her lip as she thought. "How often—I mean . . . ugh! How do elf periods work?" The last words came out in a rush. Galadriel looked at her in confusion. She didn't understand. What was a period?

"I am afraid I do not understand your question," the Lady said. "Can you explain it to me?"

"Well," Emily said taking a deep breath. "Human women in my time bleed every month." She paused while Galadriel nodded to show that she understood what Emily meant. "OK, so I've been here over a month and . . . well . . . nothing's happened." Understanding dawned instantly on the face of the Lady of Lórien.

"Oh, my dear," Galadriel replied with a gentle smile, "that is an easy question to answer. Elves only become fertile when they are ready to have children."

"So you don't . . . I mean . . . "

"No," the Lady laughed. "We do not." Emily laughed with her. She supposed that it made sense. She couldn't imagine knowing that her time of the month would come every month for eternity. Again she felt foolish for not realizing it sooner. At least it would be one less thing for her to worry about on the quest.

**ooOO88OOoo**

She and the Lady talked well into the night. Galadriel had been particularly interested in Earth and the technologies in it and had quizzed Emily about it endlessly. Such had been her curiosity that by the time Emily returned to the pavilion the others were already asleep. Glad of the small mercy—she didn't feel as though she could stand their questioning as well—she laid down on her bed to try to sleep.

However sleep would not come. All of the Lady's questions about her time had made her particularly homesick and she rose and sprinted out of the pavilion as she felt sobs begin to rise up her throat. She didn't want to wake the others, but there was no way that she would be able to stop this. Hearing the Lady tell her that she may not be able to go home had broken something inside her. Thankfully it had held long enough for her to have privacy, but there would be no stopping it now. And a few feet from the pavilion she sank to her knees and allowed her sorrow to take her.

The others hadn't been as deeply asleep as she had though. At the sound of her first sob Aragorn, Legolas and Boromir all sat up. Legolas and Boromir moved to go to her but were stopped by Aragorn's arm in their path.

"No," he whispered even though he knew that she would not hear him. "If she wanted us to know she would have stayed here. Let her have her privacy." They knew that he was right, but even so it was hard to lay back down in the dimness of the pavilion and listen to the heartrending sounds of her grief and do nothing to comfort her. Despite the difficulty of the task, they managed it. And once she was cried out and returned to her bed they pretended to be asleep so that she would not know that anyone had heard.

Once her breathing evened out, they sat up once more and exchanged worried glances. What had Emily and the Lady Galadriel spoken of that had devastated her so?

**ooOO88OOoo**

**Well there we are folks, a new chapter. Sorry this took so long. I was on vacation last week and had very limited computer access. I hope it was worth the wait.**

**As always, thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read this story or to add it to your favorites or alerts.**

**And a special thank you to:**

**Youkai Ryuu:**** I'm glad that you are enjoying it! And am very glad that you think I have done a good job with this plot. And that bothers me as well. I actually decided to write this story to see if I could take an overused (some would argue doomed) plot and make a good story of it. I'm glad that you think I have done a decent job so far :) I hope you continue to enjoy the rest of the story.**

**Wanderling: ****Thank you! I'm glad that you liked that scene. I was a little bit worried about it and am very happy that you think I handled it appropriately. I hope you liked this chapter as well despite the late update on it.**

**Luke:**** No problem. Thank you for taking the time to leave one. I'm glad that you enjoyed the chapter and hope that you enjoyed this one as well.**

**Guest:**** I'm glad that you are enjoying it. And generally I tend to update faster than I did this time. I'm glad that you loved that. As I told wanderling, I was rather worried that I may have botched that bit. The one thing that I will promise you about Amon Hen is that no one will die. If that helps (I already have that bit written and large chunks up to the Battle of Helms Deep).**

**Padme4000: ****No problem at all. Family comes before fanfic ;) I'm glad that you loved it! I was a little bit worried about it in general. And I wished for it too so I decided that I would write it. And in my mind this was far more important than the troll incident. I hope this chapter was worth the wait.**

**Reader-anonymous-writer:**** I agree with you. And had she have known what he thought she would have reamed him out for it. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. **

**That's all for now folks. I hope you enjoyed it and would love to hear what you thought (even if you hated it) so leave me a review if you have time and/or feel so inclined.**

**Stickdonkeys**


	18. Rivers, Boats, Sticks, and Deals

The next morning, no one said anything about Emily's tears the night before and even though she still smiled and joked with the hobbits as she always had, there was a strange sadness underlying the action. Aragorn wondered if she had _seen_ something and that had been what she and the Lady had spoken of. Even though he had resolved not to let her know that he had heard her tears, if it was something she had seen that pertained to the quest he needed to know what it was if they were to have any chance of avoiding that outcome.

His decision to speak to her was solidified when they met with Celeborn and Galadriel that evening in preparation for their departure and they offered no council as to which road the fellowship should take. It wasn't as though Aragorn had expected it to be any different. He had known that they would not choose his path for him. That was a decision for him alone to make. But even if the final decision was his, he could still take council from others: including Emily. He resolved that he would do so that night.

**ooOO88OOoo**

They spent that night as they had spent many before: as a group. They sat together in their pavilion and Aragorn had to smile at the warmth he felt from them. What had started out as a group of near enemies united in a cause and a mutual distrust of one another had become a _true_ fellowship. Legolas and Gimli sat together debating the various merits of dwarven ale and elvish wine with smiles on their faces. Emily and the hobbits were laughing at a story that Boromir was telling of a time that he and Faramir had ruined an audience of their father's when they were small while Emily fixed a tear that Boromir had managed to put into his shirt during the day.

Eventually talk turned to the quest and the inevitable question of where they should go from there. Boromir adamantly insisted that Gondor was the only logical path for the quest, and while no one said otherwise, Aragorn could see that the suggestion made many of the fellowship uncomfortable. At his words, Emily even flinched. She had heard the edge of desperation in his voice and hoped that was mistaken about what it meant.

"What do you think, Emily? What path should we take?" Aragorn asked watching her closely. She jumped at his question. She hadn't expected that he would ask her opinion. The way she saw it she was just along for the ride, not there for any real purpose.

"Um . . . what?" She gasped out.

"You have been silent on this issue where you were so vocal about how to cross the mountains," Aragorn explained. "What path do you believe that we should take?"

"Why would you ask me?" she asked in return. "I don't know anything about Middle Earth. I don't know where we should go."

"I saw your reaction to Gandalf's fall," Aragorn replied, his eyes showing sadness at having to say the words. "I _know_ that you knew what his fate would be. I knew as well. I overheard Lord Elrond warn him in Rivendell. How did you know? Did you _see_ it?"

"Emily has the sight?" Legolas asked in surprise. He had been so upset by Gandalf's fall that he had not realized what her words at the time meant. But as he revisited them in his memory he realized that Aragorn was correct. She _had_ known.

"I believe that she does," Aragorn said. Emily shifted uncomfortably under the expectant gaze of the fellowship, ranging from amazement to distrust.

"I . . . I . . . I don't know what you're talking about," Emily gasped out. "I'm not crazy!"

"Emily," Boromir said, wonder in his voice. "Being sighted does not make you insane. It is a gift. A powerful boon from the Valar. If it is truth it would be a great asset on this quest."

"I'm not . . . I can't see the future!" Emily said distraught that they wanted her to make decisions for them. "I can't tell us what to do."

"The how did you know of Gandalf's impending fall?" Aragorn demanded. Emily sighed. She had hoped that she would never have to tell them this. Especially not when she was already feeling so homesick. This conversation was nothing more than salt in her emotional wounds.

"In my time," she said sadly, trying to find the right words to explain the impossible, "you, all of you, and this quest . . . they're a story. A book and a movie. I know the story. I know how thing are _supposed _to go. But . . . things have gone right. The wargs, the path in Moria, the way it caved in unexpectedly . . . those things never happened. I hoped . . . well I had hoped that the changes would have . . . "

"I'm sorry," she continued, looking around at them. "I can't tell you what comes next."

"You could tell us what was _meant_ to have happened next," Boromir insisted. "We could prepare for that eventuality and perhaps avoid it."

"I can't!" Emily sobbed desperately. The next thing to come was his death. She couldn't bear that if she could tell them and prevent it she would. "I _wish_ that I could but I can't!"

"You can attempt it," Aragorn pressed. "It would aid us greatly to know what would have come to pass had we taken a given path. If that outcome is unacceptable we could then choose another. Any choices we make will not be through any fault of yours."

"You don't understand!" Emily snapped. "It's not that I don't want to. I do! More than anything else I want to tell you but _I can't_! I made a promise to Gandalf that I wouldn't tell and now I can't do it! When I try the words . . . they won't come! I literally can't tell you."

"Why would Mithrandir enforce such a promise if it could aid us in defeating the darkness?" Legolas asked.

"He feared what we would do with the knowledge," Aragorn sighed. "I am sorry to have upset you unnecessarily, Emily. We must carry on and make the best choice we can with the knowledge we have."

"So, what is our path?" Pippin asked looking eagerly at Aragorn.

"We will each decide our own path when the time comes," Aragorn replied. "For now, I suggest that we rest in preparation for returning to the wild." He knew that it was not wise, but he had no desire to decide the fate of Middle Earth that evening. He also knew that in the end, no one but him could make the decision whether to follow the Ring to Mordor or to follow Boromir to Gondor. He was aware of what his heart desired, but in the end knew that he would make the decision that duty called for.

**ooOO88OOoo**

The next morning dawned clear and bright, as had every day since they had entered the Golden Wood. Even though they were eager to continue the quest, now that the time had come it was with heavy hearts that they allowed Haldir to lead them out the gates of the city and to the docks. Even so, they were grateful for the hospitality the elves had shown them, not only in allowing them to stay in their city but in re-outfitting the company with food and transportation to continue the quest.

They had just asked Haldir to pass on their thanks for the boats and the rest and were about to depart when they were stopped by the sight of a giant swan-shaped boat containing Galadriel and Celeborn pulling up beside them.

"We would dine with you before you depart," Galadriel said with a smile. "If you will. It would be a shame to have had you as guests and to have never dined together." With glad hearts, the fellowship guided their boats back to the quay and sat on the grass with the Lord and Lady or Lothlórien to eat.

It was a comfortable and light meal. Once it was over, however, their departure could be delayed no longer. After declining Celeborn's offer to allow any who wished to remain in Lothlórien the right to stay, the time had come to leave. When their decisions were finalized, Galadriel stood and gestured to one of her women who brought forward parting gifts for the fellowship.

Emily moved back slightly. She knew that the Lady would have no gift for her, and that knowledge didn't bother her in the slightest. Galadriel and Celeborn had shown her far too much kindness anyway. She didn't need another present. The others had received much less during their stay in Lothlórien. Knowing this, she was surprised when the Lady spoke to her.

"I have a gift for you as well, Emily," Galadriel said smiling gently down at her.

"I couldn't possiably," Emily replied backing a little further away. "You've given me too much already." It was true. Not only had they given her the weapons, and food, they had also given her a few changes of clothes and a pack that was actually suited to travel.

"Nonsense!" The Lady laughed. "This is but a small gift. You told me that women in your time keep journals—" the lady continued to speak, but she also spoke into Emily's mind.

'In truth,' she said in Emily's mind. 'I fear that Gandalf erred in his decision to silence you. I cannot counteract his magic, it is not in my power to do so. However, I believe that I have discovered a way to circumvent it. Use the journal when the need arises.'

"Thank you," Emily replied taking the book from the Lady and nodding to show that she had heard and understood. Galadriel smiled gently and continued down the line, giving gifts to all the fellowship before she bade them a final farewell. Despite their regret, they knew that the time had truly come to leave. It was with heavy but willing hearts that they boarded the boats and left the beauty of Lothlórien behind.

**ooOO88OOoo**

For her part, Emily found that she much preferred floating down a swift river to trudging along the bank, especially since this was something she actually had some skill at doing. She had spent quite a few weekends canoeing with her folks. For the first time, she didn't feel completely out of her element. Boats: those she knew something about. And the river gave her another idea.

When they stopped for lunch, pulling up on the bank to cook, she wandered into the brush surrounding camp and broke off a firm but springy stick about three feet long. With a grin splitting her face, she walked back to camp.

"What's that?" Pippin asked looking at the stick in her hand speculatively. He didn't understand why she seemed so happy about a stick. It wasn't like she needed a walking stick in a boat.

"It's a stick," Emily replied with a smile.

"I know it's a stick," Pippin said exasperatedly. He might be young, but he knew a stick when he saw one. "Why are you carrying it?" Rather than answer his question she asked one of her own.

"Do you like fish?" she asked. He nodded but his face showed that he didn't see how a stick and his liking fish were related.

"That is _not_ a fishing pole," Merry said with a laugh, having caught on a bit more quickly than Pippin had.

"Not yet," Emily countered with a grin.

**ooOO88OOoo**

Some time later Emily was sitting in the boat once more taking her turn to rest in the middle while Gimli and Legolas paddled. She smiled with satisfaction at the stick in her lap. With a little time, and a bit of twine that had been in her purse for some unknown reason, it had been turned into a reasonable facsimile of a fishing pole. With a sigh, she realized that what was going to be more difficult to come up with would be a fishing hook. A pole would do her no good if she couldn't _land_ a fish.

With another frustrated sigh, she dug through her purse again, knowing that there was nothing in there that could work but needing to look anyway. She knew that anything that was in there that she could bend wouldn't be strong enough to land a fish and anything that she couldn't bend—well that wouldn't work either. Not that there was anything metal in there anyway, save for maybe a bobby pin. Right as that thought crossed her mind, she felt something in the bottom of her purse poke her.

Confused as to what it might be, she wrapped her hand around the offending object and felt her heart clinch painfully as she realized what it was. It was a small wood nail. She felt a sob rise up her throat but managed to suppress it, though she did sniff rather pathetically. It wasn't the nail that evoked those emotions, per se, but rather how she had come to have it.

Her dad had been repairing their fence and had asked her to pick up more nails for him before she went to the Renaissance fair with her friends. She had grudgingly done it. But she had been in such a hurry that she hadn't even bothered to get a bag from the hardware store, throwing the box into her bag instead. That nail must have fallen out before she had gotten back to the house and put the box on the porch and rang the bell before getting back in the car without waiting to see if anyone came for the nails.

She hadn't even taken the time to give them to him herself, or to wait for him to say thanks. And that was the last thing she did for him. She might never see him again and she hadn't even taken the time to say good bye.

"Emily?" Legolas called hearing her continued sniffles and wondering why she was crying. "Are you alright, _penneth?_"

"Yeah," she laughed sadly, clearing her throat and wiping the tears from her face that she didn't realize had fallen. "I found something I can use as a fishing hook. My dad . . ." she paused to swallow around the lump in her throat. "My dad left a nail in my bag. Now I just need to figure out how to bend it and we'll have fish."

"I can bend it for you," Gimli offered. "But what will you use as bait? We do not have time for you to catch worms, lass."

"I don't need worms," Emily replied eyeing one of her coppery curls that had escaped her braid. "Get me a hook and let me worry about the bait."

**ooOO88OOoo**

That night as they camped on the bank and sat around the fire everyone was in good spirits. The boats were a much swifter means of travel than their feet had been and they had made good time. Everyone, that is, except for Sam and Frodo.

"Why do they seem so uncomfortable in boats?" Emily asked Merry and Pippin quietly as she watched Sam and Frodo give the boats wide berth as they washed up the cooking dishes.

"Well, hobbits don't tend to use boats," Pippin said with a shrug as though it explained it.

"Or swim at all really," Merry added trying to help.

"So they can't swim?" Emily asked. It was a foreign concept to her. Everyone she knew at home knew how to swim. An entire culture that just didn't . . . well it was hard for her to wrap her head around.

"Well, Sam can't," Pippin said with a shrug. "Frodo was raised in Buckland. He can swim well enough."

"What about Frodo? If he can swim why is he nervous?" Emily asked knowing instantly that she should have just left it alone when both Merry and Pippin's faces fell.

"It's a long story," Merry said sadly. "Frodo's parents . . . well when he was twelve . . . his parents . . . well they."

"They died in a boating accident," Pippin said quickly. "Orphaned him. He never went in any water bigger than a bathtub voluntarily again, though need has driven him there a few times on this quest."

"Oh my god!" Emily breathed covering her hand with her mouth. "I-I didn't know. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—"

"It's ok," Pippin said with a smile. "That was a long time ago. And Frodo seems to be coping rather well. And now you know." Even so, Emily couldn't help but feel guilty that she had brought up something that had to be painful. If she remembered correctly, all of the hobbits, except for Sam, were cousins. She had just made Pippin and Merry recount the deaths of their cousins. She was just thankful that she hadn't decided to ask Frodo himself! Emily's embarrassment and discomfort was broken by Gimli handing her the nail-hook.

"Is that what you were looking for?" Gimli asked. She examined it carefully. It was perfect!

"Exactly!" she said throwing an arm around him with a grin before sitting down and unbraiding her hair and drawing one of her knives. She grabbed one of the curls and cut the last inch or so off. She then tied the cut hair around the hook, concealing it.

"Bait," she said holding it triumphantly aloft. Her spirits weren't even dampened by the skeptical looks the remainder of the fellowship were giving her.

"No fish will bite that," Boromir said looking at her "baited" hook with disdain. "There is no food there to tempt it. Next you will tell me that you can catch a fish with nothing more than a bare hook!"

"I'll make you a deal," Emily replied with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "I catch 'um, you clean 'um." Boromir nodded in acceptance of her terms. He had no objection to cleaning fish and he knew that there would be no fish to clean.

**ooOO88OOoo**

**There we are all, sorry about the delay on this one. I've been sick lately and fevers make for very strange—and disjointed—typing and storytelling abilities (and strangely angsty scenes from me anyway). Good news is that the next chapter is mostly written . . . only bad thing is that it is the end of it so I still have to sew them together coherently . . . **

**Anyway I hope you enjoyed this one . . . I'm not particularly happy with it.**

**Thank you for taking the time to read it. And thank you to those of you who added this story to your alerts or favorites.**

**And an extra special thank you to:**

**Katia0203:**** I'm sorry that you hated it ;) I've tried to keep her that way, but I do worry occasionally that I cross the line too far into Sue territory. I can't imagine it either . . . I think I would have rather died of embarrassment that to discuss that with Galadriel! I'm sorry that it wasn't soon, but I do hope that it was worth the wait.**

**Reader-anonymous-writer:**** Thank you for your review.**

**FranzF:**** I'm glad that you enjoyed it! I try to balance them and am glad that you think I am doing a good job! That scene seems to be a favorite :) I'm sorry that it wasn't soon, but I hope that it was worth it.**

**Angel Bells:**** I'm glad that you are enjoying it! How did you like the foresight conversation? **

**19seventythree:**** I'm glad that you liked it! And there'll be another little bit like that in the next chapter ;) and I understand completely. I have no idea what my husband gave me, but I've been sick as well. Only when I'm sick I don't write or crave fluff . . . :/**

**Padme4000:**** I'm glad that you loved it! That was one of my favorite interactions they have shared so far. I'm glad that you thought so highly of it! And nope. No mollycoddling if you want them to live. And I couldn't have done it either. . . but I suppose that she needed to ask someone and Galadriel, for all her etherealness is still a mother and a grandmother (and Aragorn's almost grandmother-in-law) And I'm glad that you liked that. They'll eventually figure it out. I'm glad that you liked it and hope that you liked this one as well.**

**KrystalSky:**** Thank you! I will continue writing and hope that you continue to enjoy it.**

**Well, that's all for now folks. I hope you enjoyed it and would love to know what you thought (even if you hated it) so leave me a review if you have the time and/or inclination.**

**Stickdonkeys.**


	19. Fish, Honor, Dreams and Nighmares

The next morning dawned cool and bright and the fellowship set out again before the sun was fully in the sky. Even though it was Emily's turn to take a paddling position, when she moved to take her place at the rear of the boat, Legolas stopped her by placing a hand gently on her arm.

"I would see you win this contest," he said quietly. "Not least of all because I would appreciate fresh fish. I will take your shift."

"You don't have to," Emily replied. "I want to pull my own weight."

"Acquiring food will do that more than steering a boat will," Legolas replied with a smile. "Fish. I will steer." Realizing that it was not an argument that she was going to win, Emily smiled and nodded before settling herself in the middle of the boat with the luggage.

"Do you truly think that will work, lass?" Gimli asked glancing over his shoulder at her. "I too would greatly enjoy fresh fish but do not want to get excited for something that will not come to pass."

"It'll work," Emily replied with a smile before she dropped the hook into the water. She didn't miss the fact that the vast majority of the fellowship were looking at her with indulgent smiles, the main difference being Boromir who was looking particularly smug.

After about ten minutes had passed with no hint of a bite on her line, Boromir decided that the time had come to taunt her.

"Emily," He called from the boat next to her. She glanced up at him, her brown eyes curious as to what he wanted from her. "We set stakes for if you manage to catch a fish—that I will clean it—but if you fail, what do I receive? You have promised fish, but if you fail to deliver, what shall the consequence be?"

"What did you have in mind?" Emily asked, her tone holding a challenge. She knew that she would catch a fish. It was only a question of _when_. There was no need to refuse his deal. He had accepted hers after all.

"Well," he replied with a predatory smile that caused her toes to curl within her boots. Her mind suddenly summoned up all kinds of inappropriate _consequences_ for her failure. "You are already the fellowship's seamstress, perhaps if you fail for a time you should become our laundress as well."

"What?" Emily asked his words washing over her like a bucket of cold water. That was _not_ what she had been expecting. A _laundress_? As in, he wanted her to do their _laundry_? She scoffed at the proposal.

"Are you afraid that you will fail?" Boromir asked, mirth and mischief sparkling in his eyes and laughter in his voice.

"No," Emily snapped incensed by his tone. "I won't fail!"

"Then you have no need to fear," Boromir replied the smile still there and his tone now somewhat condescending. "What say you?"

"Fine," Emily answered shortly while straightening her spine and trying to cover her shock at his challenge. "I accept. I hope you're good at cleaning fish. I don't like having to spit out bones."

"I have many skills," Boromir replied, his voice little more than a purr that was almost swallowed by the river and caused Legolas and Aragorn to exchange meaningful glances and Sam to blush. "Cleaning fish is among them. I hope your laundry skill surpass your initial sewing skills. I dislike aromatic garments."

"Are you saying that I can't sew?" Emily asked sharply, her brown eyes flashing dangerously at the insult—even if it was true.

"I said nothing of the sort," Boromir replied looking away with a smirk. Emily's angry retort was bit off as there was what was _unquestionably_ a tug on her line. With a quick flick of her wrist she set the hook. She glanced at Legolas with mischief in her eyes.

"I have a fish," she said in halting Elvish looking pointedly at Boromir. With laughter in his eyes, Legolas steered their boat alongside Boromir's. He looked up, wondering what Emily had said and why Legolas looked like the cat that had eaten the canary. Before he could ask what they wanted, Emily spoke.

"Hey, Boromir," she said, her words colored with amusement. "Wash your own clothes," she finished as she raised a fish from the water and deposited it in his lap with a satisfied smirk on her face. He glanced down at the fish and then up at her, astonishment on his face. Then he started laughing as he unhooked the fish and held it up for the others to see.

"I can't believe that worked," Gimli said shaking his head. "Who would have thought it? Catching a fish with naught but a lock of hair."

"I told you it would," Emily replied a soft smile on her face as she checked that the lure was still tied tightly before dropping the hook back into the water while Boromir tied the fish to a rope as a makeshift stringer so that the meat would remain fresh until he had time to clean it. Even though he would have enjoyed the sight of Emily doing something so domestic as washing his clothes, he couldn't feel too disappointed. Fresh fish was more than enough to compensate for his disappointment and, he reminded himself, there would always be time later to cajole her into another wager.

**ooOO88OOoo**

By the time they stopped for dinner that night, Boromir was beginning to wish that he had never agreed to clean all the fish that she could catch. Contrary to the belief of most of the fellowship, the first fish had not been a fluke . . . nor had the fifth . . . or the subsequent fish that led up to him holding a full stringer of fish.

Emily watched him unload the fish, her expression nothing short of smug as he settled himself with a sigh to begin cleaning them. She only watched for a moment before she turned assist Legolas with something and left him to it. He said that he knew how to clean fish; she saw no reason to supervise. Not that she would have been permitted to do so anyway.

After Boromir's comment on the river about "skills" Aragorn and Legolas had been tenacious in their desire to keep her separate from him. At first they had been subtle about it, Aragorn separating them at lunch under the pretense of correcting her Elvish pronunciation—claiming that she had only been a bit away from telling Legolas that she had something much more embarrassing than a fish. Once that excuse had been exhausted he and Legolas had both found little tasks to occupy her until lunch was over and they reboarded to boats to continue their journey

Now, Legolas wanted her to look at a place where the stitching had come out of his quiver and see if it was something she was capable of repairing. She examined it extensively, expecting to see a gaping hole, and only found a small space at the rim where the stitching was beginning to fray. It hadn't even come undone yet and there was more than half a string left. It was in no danger of coming lose any time soon.

"Ok," She said looking at him with her hands on her hips, "what's up?"

"I am afraid that I do not understand the question," Legolas answered honestly, though he did have some inkling that she had finally figured it out. Perhaps he and Aragorn would have been better served by a little more subtlety. They could have been permitted to spend _some_ time together under careful supervision.

"Why are you doing this?" she clarified. "You and Aragorn. Why are the two of you trying to keep me occupied with stupid little things? _This_," she held up his quiver with a raised eyebrow for emphasis, "does not need attention now. So tell me why."

"We are doing nothing of the sort," Legolas replied trying to keep his voice level. He hadn't expected her to figure it out so quickly. Even though he would be lying if he said that he hadn't expected her to challenge them when she did. Though he did think that once the explanation was out she would appreciate their efforts.

"Don't lie to me," she replied. "I know that you are. Now tell me why." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It was everything that he could do not to tell her to go ask Aragorn, but that would be unfair and would lead to her confronting the Man in camp where everyone could hear. No. It would be best if he answered her question.

"We are only trying to help you," Legolas said slowly. She said nothing but raised an eyebrow to encourage him to continue his explanation. "We are worried about the . . . speed in which your relationship with Boromir is progressing. It would be better for you and the whole of Middle Earth if things were to slow down. Romance on a quest . . . no good can come of it."

Her face was expressionless for a moment and he was a bit worried about what her response would be.

"You mean to tell me," she said her voice quiet and her expression inscrutable, "that the two of you are trying to slow down—what even makes you think that there _is_ anything to slow down?" Her tone rose on the last part and it was readily apparent that she did not appreciate their interference as he had thought she would.

"And even if there _was_, what makes the two of you think that it is _any_ of your business?" She demanded, her brown eyes flashing dangerously. It was clear that she expected an answer and he wasn't sure what he could say that would calm her.

"You have no kin here," he said hoping to play up their desire for her continued well-being. "Particularly no male kin to insure that proper courtship rituals are observed and to protect your honor."

"Protect my honor!?" she snapped incredulously. For the first time, the fact that she was in a chivalrous time period truly grated on her nerves. Did they truly think that she was not capable of protecting her own? It wasn't like Boromir was the kind of man who would not take no for an answer. He was an honorable man. Did they think that she wasn't capable of making her own decisions?

"Protect my _honor_!?" she repeated. As her tone rose Legolas knew that he had chosen the wrong angle.

"Emily," he said trying to calm the irate woman before she drew the attention of the rest of the fellowship, or something else, "I swear to you that we only meant the best. We would never—"

"I can't believe you two," she snarled casting a disgusted look at him as she turned back towards camp. With a shake of his head and wondering why it had upset her so that they cared for her well being, he followed after her.

Aragorn took in Emily's furious expression and Legolas's confused one and rapidly put the pieces together. As Emily angrily sat herself next to Boromir and did what she could to help him clean fish, Aragorn looked at Legolas, who had taken a seat beside him.

"She knows?" Aragorn asked quietly noticing the glare that Emily shot at the two of them.

"She knows," Legolas agreed with a sad nod. "She did not appreciate our efforts."

"Clearly," Aragorn replied. "She will calm down soon, my friend." Legolas didn't disagree with him, but he feared that Aragorn was wrong. Emily had looked so angry and betrayed that he feared that she might never forgive them.

**ooOO88OOoo**

Legolas needn't have feared. On the other side of camp, Emily was already beginning to calm down. Once the indignation of them treating her like a child faded a bit, she realized that they really had had her best interest at heart. No matter how maddening their behavior was. She continued to bounce between indignation and understanding a few times before Boromir's soft voice broke her from her thoughts.

"May I ask why you are angry," Boromir asked absently as he selected another fish to clean."Or will such a question only result in your anger turning on me?" Emily gave a small laugh at the question.

"Apparently we need to be kept separate," Emily said with a wry smile. She watched him closely to see how he took the news that the fellowship had taken to babysitting them. Only the slight twitch of his lips showed that he had heard. But it was such a quick motion that she couldn't tell if it was from amusement or frustration. And when he spoke his voice was no help in figuring it out.

"Do we?" he asked, not looking up from his fish. "Was an explanation offered?"

"Apparently my _honor_ demands it," she replied bitterly. He looked up in surprise at her bitterness. He didn't understand why she would be upset that the others would care about her honor. It only made sense that they would step in a surrogate family for her. He would have expected no less.

"And you disagree?" he asked trying to remain impartial. Her answer was important. If she felt that her honor was not at risk by spending time alone with him then she clearly had no interest in him and he would withdraw his attentions. If she didn't disagree, he would be more careful about when and where they spent time together so as not to risk besmirching her honor.

"I don't know," she sighed her shoulders drooping. "Back home, people date without chaperones all the time. Adults do not need babysat. Things either happen or they don't. But here . . . I don't know. Do _you_ think we need supervision?" Rather than reply, he looked at her in a way that clearly answered her question: he thought that they did. If others had noticed his affections for her to the point that they tried to separate them, her honor was in danger.

"You do," she said finally her tone one of resignation. As irritating as she found it that they felt that she needed a babysitter, she couldn't help but smile at the fact that they liked her enough to care.

**ooOO88OOoo**

Even though it hadn't been long since they had been properly full, the fellowship still appreciated the abundance of fresh fish that Emily had provided. Even once they had eaten their fill, there was fish left over that they hung over the fire to dry so they would have meat once they left the river behind. They sat around the fire for a time, enjoying the quiet companionship they had come to enjoy in Lothlórien before the watches were decided and they bedded down for the night.

Unlike other nights, Boromir took special care to make sure that he placed his bedding on the opposite side of the camp from Emily's. It would not do to have any speculation taking place about what might have happened in the dark watches of the night—even though nothing had yet taken place. Even though he desired to be nearer to her in case something chose to attack in the night, he knew that the rest of the fellowship—as well as Emily herself to an extent—were capable of the task of keeping her safe. Her honor was a more pressing concern.

If she was aware of his move, Emily didn't show it. Instead, she rolled herself into her cloak and laid down, her back towards the group. He hoped that he hadn't hurt her feelings through his move, but he could see no other decision that he could make. Not as a man of breeding. He would have to accept her ire as payment if that was what he had earned. Only morning would reveal the outcome of his actions.

Emily _had_ noticed, and she wondered what had caused the sudden change, but she was almost glad. Even though she had enjoyed their quiet conversations before bed, she needed to think. They had been traveling down the river for two days already and she couldn't remember how long the journey took the fellowship originally. As pleasant as the past couple of days had been, she had no difficulty reminding herself that this was not a weekend float trip, as much as she would like to believe that it was. It was just a piece of a quest. The final leg for Boromir if she couldn't think of something soon. That was the first night that she had nightmares.

_They were floating down the river when a loud growl from the eastern shore drew her attention. The bank was full of the giant Wargs that had chased them to the gates of Moria. But none of the others seemed to notice them. It was alright, though, because the Wargs seemed reluctant to enter the water. It confused her, the water wasn't moving that swiftly and they were large, powerful animals. Their reluctance made no sense. _

_A shrill noise from the western bank caused her to turn away from the horrifyingly mesmerizing sight of the Wargs to see a host of orcs. Led by the one that she had chopped the hand from in Moria. He waved to her, a cruel smile on his face and the blood spurting from his arm forming a weak parody of a hand. She glanced at the rest of the fellowship for support, reassurance, __**something**__ but they still remained oblivious to the presence of danger. Even during what came next._

_At the appearance of the orcs, the wargs began to howl, loud angry sounds, as if protesting the orcs intrusion on their kill while the orc began shrieking their defiance at the wargs. Even with all the noise in the air, Emily felt relived. The river was swift and wide. They were out of range of arrows and there was no way that they could keep up with the boats on foot. If they would just stay in the middle of the river, they would soon be free from danger. _

_No sooner had the thought crossed her mind than the Watcher from the Gate Pool of Moria appeared in the middle of the river. The water boiled around it and its myriad of tentacles reached higher than was possible, seeming to seek to bring down the sun itself. It spanned the entire river and blocked their passage. They would have to choose. Would they rather face the warg pack or the orc host? _

_But still the boats did not turn. Instead they continued to glide into the waiting arms of the Watcher. "Stop," she cried, though no one acknowledged that she had spoken. "We can't keep going!" Still the boats continued on. She watched in horror as the lead boat—containing Aragorn, Sam and Frodo—was pulled under by the watcher. Frodo's fear as the water rose over the edges apparent and Sam's panicked cries as his head sunk under the water breaking her heart. _

"_We have to help them!" She called to Legolas, who sat with his back straight as his expression blank and almost bored as he looked straight ahead as though he couldn't hear any of it. "They're dying!"_

"_NO!" she yelled as the second boat was pulled under, though she was spared the sight of the last looks of Merry, Pippin and Boromir as they were sucked down before they could react._

"_Stop! Please turn around!" Emily begged. "The orcs and wargs are a better choice!" Suddenly she felt a tentacle—strangely rough and warm rather than wet and slimy—wrap itself around her head covering her mouth and another wrap around her body, hauling her out of the boat and forcing her to watch as the last of the fellowship were dragged to their deaths below the waters of the river. She was sobbing and trying to fight free of the Watcher and do something when it spoke. _

"_Emily," it said, its voice strangely familiar. How did it know her name? It shook her gently._

Suddenly her eyes flew open. It wasn't the Watcher that was restraining her, but rather Aragorn. His hand was over her mouth, gently but firmly muffling her. It had just been a nightmare. When he saw her eyes open and saw the coherency in them her removed his hand. She sat up and ran her hand roughly through her hair. It had all been a nightmare.

"Are you alright?" Aragorn asked. "Did you _see_ something?"

"It was just a nightmare," Emily replied looking up at him and seeing seven other pairs of eyes staring at her from the darkness as well. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake y'all."

"It was nearly time," Aragorn replied gesturing at the pink just beginning to tinge the clouds to the east. "Do you wish to discuss your dream? Prophesies often present themselves as nightmares." Emily laughed humorlessly.

"This wasn't a prophesy," she said with a wry smile. "Unless the orc that Boromir and I killed in Moria manages to come back to life with a whole host of his buddies _and _a pack of wargs to herd us right into the arms of the Watcher who is waiting to drown us in the river, it was just a dream. It was just a nightmare. I'm sure of it."

"If you are certain," Aragorn said with a nod and a small smile. "Since we are all awake, let us break our fast and continue our journey."

"Speaking of the journey," Emily said quietly, her words for Aragorn alone, "how much longer do you think that we'll be on the river?" Aragorn sighed before he answered.

"We have made good time," he said finally, his eyes strangely haunted and his tone sad despite the good news. "It will take us, perhaps, two more days to reach the Falls of Rauros. From there we will have to make a decision as to how to proceed." _Two days until I must make a choice that will decide the fate of Middle Earth,_ Aragorn finished silently.

"Two days," Emily breathed, her eyes taking on a panicked look that Aragorn did not like in the least. What was going to happen at the Falls? What did Emily know that she was unable to tell?

**ooOO88OOoo**

**Well, there we are a new chapter out! I hope that it was worth the wait. And on the hair thing, it really does work. When I was younger, my sister, my grandpa and me were fishing and he lost the skirt of his weight-headed jig and hadn't brought another—those things rarely fall off. So he "borrowed" one of my brown curls and one of my sister's blonde ones and used one of my orthodontic elastics to tie them to the jig. We still say that he only caught fish because of us and should receive the credit (he caught the most that day). So, strange as it sounds, hair makes decent fish bait ;)**

**As always, thank you to those of you who took the time to read this chapter or to add this story to your alerts or favorites.**

**And a special thank you to:**

**Angel Bells: ****It does work. The only problem is securing the hair to the hook ;) I hope you manage to catch a fish and that you enjoyed this chapter!**

**KrystalSky:**** I'm glad that you liked it! I thought that it seemed like a way to pass the time on the river that would actually be more productive than "I Spy." (which I actually have seen in a 10****th**** walker :/)**

**UntilNeverDawns: ****Thank you so much! I hope that staying up late didn't impede your absorbtion of knowledge at class. And definitely. There has been much of the "edit healthy" step going on. And I do not mind long-winded in the least! I hope that you enjoyed the newest chapter! **

**Padme4000:**** Thank you! I have had lots of experience with fish. That is one thing that I know a lot about. Growing up I spent almost every weekend at the lake with my family. And I don't know that I have ever seen that show . . . I'm glad that you liked the bit with the nail, I figured a little more homesick angst wouldn't hurt ;) And the others knowing will definitely have repercussions later. And thank you, I am feeling better now :) and there was never any doubt in my mind that he would have to clean fish ;) I hope you enjoyed the newest chapter!**

**ChelseaDagger14:**** Thank you so much! I hope that you continue to enjoy it!**

**That's all for now folks. I hope you enjoyed it and would love to know what you think (even if you hated it) so please leave me a review if you have time and/or feel so inclined.**

**Stickdonkeys**


	20. Well This Wasn't a Great Plan

The next day passed in a blur. Emily knew that she continued to eat, walk, paddle, fish, all the things that she needed to do to survive, but her mind was not on them. She was on auto-pilot. Her mind was working full time to try and think of a way to prevent Boromir's death. But she was at a loss. It wasn't as though she could protect him physically. If he had been unable to fight off the Uruk-hai there was no way that she would be able to defend him. The only way that she could do it would be to keep him from the situation entirely but then . . . Merry and Pippin. She couldn't sacrifice them either.

She sat around the campfire that night, trying to see a way that she could spin things that everyone would win. No matter how she tried to manipulate the variables, it never worked. She rubbed her eyes, letting out a small moan of frustration. Why couldn't things just work!?

"_Penneth_, are you alright?" Legolas asked from beside her. He had been worried that she hadn't spoken to anyone all day. He hoped that she was not still upset about his and Aragorn's interference and Boromir's subsequent withdrawal. It wouldn't do to have her focusing on that when there were orcs patrolling the eastern shore and Legolas had slain some great flying beast that had instilled fear in all of them. She needed to have her wits about her in case they needed to fight.

"I'm fine," she replied with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "It's just a headache. I'm ok." It was a clear mark of how untrue her statement was that she did not notice the disbelief in his eyes but rather went back to staring into the embers of the fire as though they held all the answers in the world.

He knew that she would tell him what was on her mind in time or she would not, it would do him no good to press her. Instead, he turned his attention to the conversation the others were absorbed in and left her to her musings. As they had off and on since before they left Lothlórien, they were debating the relative merits of the paths before them.

"Assuming that you _do_ intend to take the Ring to Mordor," Boromir was saying. "How do you intend to get it there? Do you intend to turn away at the Falls and pick your way through both Emyn Muil and the Dead Marshes? And even if you manage to find a path do you intend us to march up to the Black Gate and politely request entry to his lands so that we may destroy his prize? It is a hopeless path."

"And what would you have us do?" Frodo snapped. Both the Ring and the pressure of the fact that the fate of the entire Fellowship was on his shoulders making his temper short. "Cower in Minas Tirith until it is surrounded and destroyed before enabling the enemy to take the Ring that way? Fortifications will not save us, Boromir! Lord Elrond, Lady Galadriel, Tom Bombadil, all of these great and powerful people refused to harbor it. What chance would Minas Tirith have? No. Hopeless or not I must try."

"So rather than resist him and delay him you would deliver it to his door?" Boromir snapped. He couldn't believe that the hobbit wanted to lead them all into death. There was no other way for that path to end. He would doom them all. And they would only be the first to fall. With them dead and the Ring in the hands of the enemy all of Middle Earth would fall. The Halfling was dooming the entire world through his folly.

"Perhaps there is another path into Mordor," Gimli suggested. "It is ringed with mountains, perhaps there is a cave or a tunnel we could exploit to enter."

"Even if there was a cave," Aragorn said with a sigh, "it would take us too long to excavate it. I know of the prowess of the dwarves when it comes to delving, but none of the rest of us can lay claim to such skills. Our only hope would be to climb."

"That would be too exposed," Legolas argued. "The Eye, we would never make it over the mountains before we would be captured."

"There must be a way," Frodo mumbled. "The Ring must be destroyed. There _must_ be a way in."

"If there is not, perhaps it is a sign that we are not meant to destroy the Ring," Boromir added, bringing the conversation full circle once again. For a time no one said anything else. They were all aware that tomorrow evening they would have to make the decision that would result in either failure or victory for the quest but they could not bring themselves to make another futile round of the questions that needed answering.

Despite their full stomachs and the mild weather of the night, spirits within the fellowship were at the lowest point that they had been since the fall of Gandalf that night. And even though no attack from the eastern shore came that night, no one slept peacefully.

**ooOO88OOoo**

The malaise of the company did not pass with the rising of the sun but rather continued on the next day. Their moods further soured when they came to Sarn Gerbir and had to lift the boats across the broken land around the river to the old portage way to avoid the rapids. Though the boats were light, when combined with the weight of the baggage the fact that five out of nine of the company were markedly shorter than the rest and threw off the balance of carrying a boat and that sharp words had been exchanged the night before, it was not a pleasant mile. And many times they, Boromir especially, questioned the sense in their current path. Why should they take the time to port boats when they could leave the river and cross the plains of Rohan without the burden?

Even once they had replaced the boats in the water, their moods were not improved. During the march, harsh words had flown and tempers had grown shorter than they had been since the long march through Moria. For the first time, the fellowship realized that they might have to part ways at the Falls. The sight of the Argonath lifted them briefly, Aragorn in particular, but even such a majestic landmark could not truly lift the tension that came from know that they would have to chose that night and that it was highly possible that come dawn the fellowship would be no more.

They stopped, pulling to the west back of the river before the falls to make their final decision: more appropriately, Frodo needed to make a decision and then the rest could decide from there. At the sight of so many eyes on him, Frodo found that he could hardly breathe, let alone think. He needed to get away.

"Give me an hour," he begged. "Only an hour alone and I will have my decision. I swear it." Unable to deny him, Aragorn nodded and Frodo walked alone into the woods to think in solitude. Aragorn did not envy him his choice. Frodo alone could decide his own path and Aragorn would follow, where ever that path led. His heart longed to go to Gondor, but duty insisted that he follow the Ring-bearer. He only hoped that Frodo would make the correct choice.

**ooOO88OOoo**

Frodo had been gone for about a half hour when Boromir rose suddenly and went into the woods in a different direction than Frodo had gone. No one thought anything of it. No one, except for Emily. She knew that the time had come for her to make a decision of her own. She had thought about it and realized that the only choice she could make was to find a way to keep Boromir and the Uruk-hai from being in the woods together. She would try to stop Merry and Pippin _before _they were captured and prevent any of it from happening. There had to be another way to rouse the Ents and free Rohan from Saruman's control.

With her decision made, she just had to convince herself that she truly wanted to go through with it. Through preventing his death she knew that he own life would be in danger. She had no illusions about her ability to hold her own against the Uruks. If she came across them before she returned Merry and Pippin to camp she would die. But she couldn't sit by and do nothing.

When Boromir left, unnoticed by any of the others, she took her present from the Lady Galadriel from her pack and glanced at the accompanying ink and quill dubiously. She had never used one before and hoped that she would be able to figure it out in time to finish her note before it was too late. It took a few tries and some curse words that caused Merry and Pippin to blush to the tips of their ears and even Gimli to raise an eyebrow at the inventiveness of her profanity, but eventually she figured it out.

She tried to keep the anguish off her face as she wrote what might be her last words to the fellowship and tried to get as much information into the note as she could. Galadriel had been right. Gandalf's ban only extended to spoken words and she could write whatever she wanted. She hoped that this would not be the only way that they would find out, in fact, she hoped that they would never have to read it. If she was successful she would be able to reclaim the note before it ever had to be read.

She wasn't sure, but she guessed that once something was avoided and no longer part of the future she would be able to talk about it. If that was the case, once she prevented Boromir's death she _should_ be able to tell them what should have happened and they could figure out what they wanted to do next. And if she was wrong, she could always write them a new, less emotional, note and explain it all.

While Emily was preoccupied with writing her farewell note, the rest of the fellowship were talking frankly about what they would prefer, since Frodo was gone and they could now speak without fear of swaying his choice. The argument between them was the same as it had been the night before, only with much less heat. Most of the fellowship, Gimli and Legolas included, wished to go to Minas Tirith rather than Mordor, though they were all unwilling to abandon Frodo to go it alone.

"We need not all go to Mordor," Aragorn said sadly. It had been growing on his heart that it would actually be better for the fellowship to break here. Nine stood no chance against the armies of Mordor and would actually complicate the task since nine would be more easily seen than a fewer number.

"Frodo is the only one of us that _must_ go east," Aragorn continued. "As the leader of the company, I am obligated to go with him as well, if he wishes it. Sam as well will not be dissuaded, and I would ask that Gimli come as well since his expertise with stone may aid us in infiltrating the dark lands. If you will take my council, the rest of you should go to Gondor with Boromir."

His words were met with protests from all as they argued against leaving Frodo to go it alone—or with a reduced retinue. And in the end, Aragorn held up his hands in defeat.

"I can see that this matter will not be resolved easily, even through compromise," Aragorn said with a small smile. "We shall just have to await Frodo's decision and finish the debate then." Once he had spoken, they fell back into talk about the history of the region, Aragorn and Legolas tell what they knew while the others listened in awe and Gimli praised the stonework of the Ancient Gondorians.

Emily took no part in either discussion. She was too engrossed in what she was doing and had just written the last word when Boromir came back into the camp, looking embarrassed and making eye contact with no one, not even her. Aragorn cast him a look that made Emily think that he knew what had just taken place.

"Boromir," Aragorn said, "Did you see Frodo?"

"Yes," the Man admitted, not looking at the Ranger. "I saw him. And I tried to sway his decision. It is folly for him to take the Ring to Mordor. I fear for him, and us all, if he takes that path. I told him as much and . . . and he did not agree with me. I grew angry. He . . . he disappeared. One moment he was there and the next . . . I have no idea where he now is. I believed he would return here.

"Why would he have put on the Ring?" Sam demanded standing to glare at the Man. "It is . . . "

"Now Sam," Merry said comfortingly. "He won't have it on now, not that he got away."

"Bilbo used to do the same thing all the time," Pippin agreed. "Especially when Lobelia was around. Frodo may even be back listening in on us now."

"Either way, we have to find him!" Sam exclaimed.

"How long ago was this, Boromir? When you grew angry?" Aragorn asked.

"Half an hour, perhaps," Boromor replied his tone unsure. "I am sorry. I do not know."

"That long?" Same cried, before he, Pippin and Merry were off despite Aragorn's cries that they wait until a search could be organized.

"Follow them," Aragorn said to Boromir. "Try to calm them and bring them back so that we can organize a proper search. Gimli, Legolas, come with me. We will check the High Seat and work out from there. Emily, remain here in case Frodo returns. Keep him here in that case. We will return."

Emily made a sound of commitment, but never actually agreed to remain in camp. She couldn't bear her last words to him to be a lie. Content that all the orders necessary were given, Aragorn took off in pursuit of Sam and search of Frodo.

As soon as they were out of sight, Emily read through her note one final time before signing it, addressing it to the fellowship and placing it on her pack in full view of the others. She swallowed back her tears and went off in the direction Pippin, Merry and Boromir had gone. She caught up with Boromir first, in a small clearing just south of the lawn they had stopped to debate their path. He hadn't heard her come up behind him, as he was busy searching for the faint signs left by the passage of hobbit feet, and was startled as she placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. He turned sharply to face her, his sword halfway from its scabbard before he recognized her.

"Emily," he said, his face showing shock at her being there. "What—it is unwise to practice stealth under these stressful conditions. Such a thing could prove fatal."

"I'm sorry," she replied, her voice shaking as she reminded herself that everything she was doing at the moment could prove fatal. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"There was no harm done," he assured her with a smile. He mistook the waver in her voice for shock that he had almost drawn a weapon on her and not anguish at the choice she had made. "What is the desire that drove you from camp? Surely you desire nothing so untoward as to require us to be alone in the woods." His words sent another pang through her. He had no idea how much she desired something _untoward_ with him, but that was not the cause of this. She only hoped that there would be time for that later.

"No," she said, fighting to keep her tears from her voice and the lie from her eyes, "nothing untoward. Aragorn sent me to find you and ask you to return. The hobbits returned and he wants to discuss the next leg of the journey." She felt especially guilty at the relief that washed over his features at her lie.

"Let us return then," he replied, linking his arm chastely through hers and beginning to lead her back toward camp. She shifted uncomfortably.

"I have some business I need to take care of, of a _personal _nature," she said. "I will return when I'm done, ok?" At first he looked as though he would argue with her, but then understanding dawned in his eyes and he coughed nervously before he said, "I will await you at camp," and left.

She watched him walk away fighting back tears at the realization that she might never see him again and the last thing she had said to him was a lie. But she had made her decision. She had saved him and now she would try to save Merry and Pippin and if she survived that . . . well, then she would apologize for lying to him.

Strengthening her resolve, she ran in the direction Boromir had been headed when she stopped him, hoping that it would lead her to the hobbits. It did but that wasn't all that it led to. After only a handful of steps, she arrived in the clearing that should have been the site of Boromir's heroic death only to see that she was too late to keep Merry and Pippin from being captured. The clearing was full of Uruk-hai, two of them holding trussed hobbits. And she, being the idiot that she was, blundered right into the middle of them.

"Hi," she said nervously, waving at the Uruks as she backed away from them. "I wasn't aware that this clearing was in use. I was actually looking for something more private. So . . . I'll just keep looking, shall I?" Her last word came out in a huff as she walked into what she thought was a tree until it wrapped its arms around her. It was then that she realized it was not a tree, but a solid mass of Uruk flesh. As the arms wrapped around her, she felt herself begin to sob. She was dead.

**ooOO88OOoo**

Meanwhile, back at camp, a very confused Boromir was trying to figure out why there was no one there. He glanced around quickly and saw that one of the boats, as well as the packs belonging to Sam and Frodo were missing. They had gone alone into Mordor. And it had been his fault. If he hadn't provoked Frodo so the hobbit would never have done something so rash and foolish as to go off alone. It was his fault.

Even if he knew where they were, it didn't answer the question of where the rest of the fellowship was. Emily had said they were here. He glanced around again looking for clues and saw a letter resting on Emily's back addressed to them. He bent to retrieve it when the sound of something moving through the underbrush caused him to straighten and prepare for battle.

Seconds later, Aragorn entered the clearing followed closely by Gimli and Legolas. They had been set upon by Uruks at the seat of Amon Hen, but at the sound of an orc horn, their attackers had fled swiftly leaving them alive and confused. Confusion that only deepened at the sight of Boromir alone in the camp without Merry and Pippin or Emily.

"Boromir," Aragorn said, his tone showing his confusion, "why do you tarry here while the hobbits are still missing?"

"Emily told me they had been found and that my presence was required here," Boromir answered Aragorn's confusion catching as he took in the Ranger's tone. He should know this. It was he that had sent Emily, was it not?

"Emily told you?" Aragorn asked, his only confusion deepening even farther and causing creases to appear on his face.

"Yes," Boromir confirmed. "Emily told me that you had requested that she find me and ask me to return to camp as the hobbits had been located," he elaborated as Aragorn's frown deepened.

"Why would I have sent Emily when I am capable of finding you more quickly?" Aragorn asked, seeking to find a lie in the other Man's words.

"I did not question her, nor your motivations," Boromir replied. "What cause did I have to doubt her?"

"What cause indeed," Aragorn agreed. "However what cause had she to lie?" The last part was more for himself than the others but it had been said aloud as he tried to puzzle it out.

"Perhaps this will explain her motivations," Legolas said quietly bending to retrieve the note from her pack. He opened it carefully pulling it from the envelope and realizing that she may have the worst handwriting he had ever seen in his life and her spelling was beyond strange. It was almost illegible. But he managed to decipher it and as he did, his expression darkened. Once he reached the end, he began to read it aloud.

"Dear group," the note said. "I am sorry that I had to handle things the way I did, but it was the only way. I'm sure that by now you all know that I lied to Boromir—which I apologize for by the way—and are wondering why I did. The answer is simple. If I hadn't done it, he would be dead right now. I'm sorry that I couldn't just tell you the truth as to why I needed you to go back to camp, but the promise that I gave Gandalf wouldn't let me. Who knew that promises to wizards were magically binding?" Legolas paused to laugh mirthlessly at her naiveté before continuing to read.

"I know that my being here has already changed things and it is possible that he wouldn't have died in this version but I couldn't risk it. I couldn't stand by and watch another good man die if I could do anything to stop it. In the version of the story that I know, he was killed attempting to prevent the capture of Merry and Pippin by Uruk-hai and after his death they were taken anyway.

"Boromir, if it is any consolation, you took out so many of them with you that the others had no way of getting rid of the bodies. At any rate, I left to try to lead Merry and Pippin to safety before they meet the Uruks. If you're reading this, odds are that I failed. If that's the case, they have been captured and I am either with them or . . . or . . . dead." Legolas paused and looked up at the others to see the same grief that he felt at the thought of her being dead on all of their faces. When he began to read again, it was more slowly. Partially because her words pained him and partially because her writing had gotten steadly worse, the letters now shaky and the occasional teardrop marring the words.

"In either case," he read, "I can give you a bit of help in rescuing them (us?). The Uruks are taking the hobbits to Isenguard and will pass by Fangorn Forest. It's essential that you go that direction even though I don't have time to explain why. Hopefully I will see you all again soon. If not, I want you all to know that I don't regret meeting you, or coming with you on the quest.

"Boromir, please remember, no matter how this ended for me, that I chose to save your life and I don't regret it. You are an honest, noble man. You do not deserve to die for a mistake that you made. If I did die, it is my last wish that you do not feel guilty for what has happened to me.

"Aragorn, please don't be too angry with him for believing me, or for his part in Frodo leaving. It was necessary, I swear it. And if he hadn't've listened to me, he'd be dead. Keep in mind that he had no reason not to trust me. This is my final wish of you.

"Gimli, thank you. I never told you how much I appreciated your help. I have nothing that I would ask of you except that you smile when you remember me.

"Legolas," at his own name, he quit reading aloud and read what he knew might very well be her final words to himself. She apologized for her behavior in the last few days and thanked him for his kindness.

"And then she signed it," Legolas said sadly. He folded the note and passed it to Boromir. Even if nothing had happened between them, if she was dead, he deserved to have her last words. As much as it pained them, they knew that she was dead. They could cling to hope, but there was no chance that she would have survived against a troupe of Uruks that had killed Boromir. He tried to convey his sorrow at their loss with his eyes, attempting to show Boromir that he understood what the man had lost—even more than the rest of them.

Suddenly a sound like a wounded animal rent the silence that had followed Emily's last words. Gimli, who had grown unnaturally fond of Emily, almost like a daughter, which was strange considering that she was a strange woman who was not a dwarf even if her actual race was difficult to be pinned down., had sunk to a rock and was mourning.

"Is it not bad enough that we lost the lads?" Gimli asked looking at the remaining members of fellowship. "Why did she have to . . . what a brave and _foolish_ thing for her to do. I never would have expected it from the lass." The others had no reply and made no attempt. They knew that they needed to follow Merry and Pippin and that they owed Emily a burial of some sort, but they had no desire to find what was sure to be her mutilated body.

**ooOO88OOoo**

The Uruks were both bigger and nastier looking than she had anticipated. If she ever got home she intended to write Peter Jackson and New Line Cinema a scathing letter telling them that they had made some glaring errors. She knew that it was a stupid thing to focus on, but the more logical part of her brain had shut off in light of her situation.

One of the Uruks reached for her neck and she closed her eyes. _Well this is the end,_ she thought. _I hope it's quick._ Instead of snapping her neck as she had thought it would, the Uruk grabbed her chin and roughly turned her face, examining her like it would a horse.

"A woman?" It growled, its voice barely intelligible even though it was speaking the common tongue. Despite the strangeness of the timbre, something in her brain registered that it was surprised.

" No," snarled another, knocking the hand of the first away and turning her to face him roughly. "Not a woman. It's a filthy she-elf." To prove his point, he seized her hair and turned her head the other way to show the first Uruk the points of her ears.

"A she-elf, eh?" the first said musingly. "We'll bring her too. Sharku will want to _speak_ with her." The way he said "speak" made her skin crawl and even though she knew that it was futile she tried to struggle against them.

"Our orders were to kill all 'cept for the Halflings," the second argued. "We should slit her throat, spill her innards and leave her body for the crows."

"I'm in charge and I say she comes with us," the first argued. "Now check her for weapons. Elves are tricky." The second Uruk grumbled, something that sounded like words, but they were dark and in a language Emily didn't know, but the tone of them set her teeth on edge as he began patting her down crudely. She stiffened, hoping that he wouldn't think to check her boots. He did, his triumphant shriek as he found the knives she had concealed there shrill and piercing.

"This is all she had," he said tossing her daggers aside as though they burned him. "Hid 'um down her boots, she did."

"Then we'd better remove that hidin' place, ain't we?" said a third before roughly grabbing her shoes and attempting to pull them off her feet while she was still standing on them. All he succeeded in doing was forcing her more firmly into the arms of the Uruk holding her and forcing him to support her weight as her feet were lifted and bared. Her boots were then tossed in the direction of her knives and the leader was grabbing her by the braid.

"Get moving," he ordered in her ear, pushing her in the direction of Isenguard before stooping to grab a Pippin and nudge her along in front of him as she tried to pick her way through the forest in her now bare feet.

**ooOO88OOoo**

**Sorry about the delay on this one y'all. I don't even know what to say about that . . . or about the chapter in general either . . . at any rate I hope that it was worth the wait! I'm sorry that this is going to be a bit of an angst ball for a little while, bear with me and things will lighten up again . . . I think.**

**As always, thank you to everyone who took the time to read this chapter or to add it to your alerts or favorites.**

**And a special thank you to those of you who reviewed. Y'all really make my day!**

**ZabuzazGirl:**** I'm sorry that it wasn't anywhere near immediately but I do hope that it was worth the wait!**

**KrystalSky:**** I never understood it either (did that show just a bit). I'm glad that you liked that chapter and hope that you liked this one as well.**

**Baroque:**** I'm glad that I could make you glad! I'm also glad that you do not think it had gone downhill as it progressed! I hope that it continues to live up to your expectations!**

**Angel Bells:**** I'm glad that you loved it! and yeah . . . that's not going to be a fun conversation for either of them . . . though it should be entertaining for us ;) **

**Kilataia:**** I'm glad that you are liking it! And see, I didn't kill him. I also have no plans to. I hope that you continue to like it!**

**Well, that's all for now folks! I hope you enjoyed it and would love to hear what you thought (even if you hated it) so please leave me a review if you have time and/or feel so inclined.**

**Stickdonkeys.**


	21. Despair, Hope, Desperation and Stupidity

After the silence that followed the reading of Emily's note, there was a short debate as to which path they should now follow. Their hearts were torn. They had agreed to see the quest through to the end—even if they had sworn no oaths—but Frodo had chosen to go off alone and Merry and Pippin needed them. Could they, in good conscience, abandon the youngest two to torture and death to pursue the Ring Bearer who had forsaken their company? Emily's note had made it sound as though they were _supposed_ to follow the youngest pair of hobbits. But where did that leave Frodo?

Boromir sat silent through the debate, his misery at his hand in all of this taking his ability to speak. Had he not have been tempted, or not have cornered Frodo, none of this would have happened. Through his actions, the fellowship had been broken. Frodo and Sam were now alone to face the impossible task of gaining entry to Mordor. Merry and Pippin were captured by orcs. He wondered if, even if, they were rescued would they be able to smile again? And Emily . . . he couldn't bring himself to think about _her_ fate due to his actions. It somehow hurt him even more that he could not even honor her last wish. No matter what she had believed, this was _his_ fault.

Eventually, it was unanimously decided—among those that took part in the discussion—that the fellowship would follow the Uruks and attempt to rescue the youngest hobbits, for good or ill. There was only one thing that they needed to take care of first: Emily's burial.

It was with heavy hearts that the remainder of the fellowship quickly packed their things, Gimli taking Merry's pack and tying it to his own while Legolas did the same with Pippin's. They knew that it was foolish to encumber themselves with the extra weight, but somehow leaving them made it feel like they had no hope of seeing the hobbits alive once more. After a brief pause, Boromir did the same with Emily's—though he had no hope of ever seeing _her_ again—and they made to follow the Uruks that had taken Merry and Pippin.

They started off in the direction that they knew Merry, Pippin and Emily had gone, hoping to find her body quickly so as not to delay the chase overlong. They held no hope of finding her alive, or at least not alive and in a condition in which she could be saved. Orcs cared not if they killed women and they would not have taken her with them. It was strange enough that the Uruks took the hobbits—Emily hadn't bothered to explain _why_, thought they could guess from what Gandalf had said that Saruman was searching for the Ring—but that they would take her as well . . . it was beyond unlikely. And if they had . . . with what Uruks were known to do to prisoners . . . they almost found themselves hoping that she _was_ dead. Death would be kinder than the fate that awaited her at the hands of Uruks and Saruman.

Elves and hobbits may not leave many traces of their passing, but the signs were there if one knew what to look for. Aragorn knew and carefully led them along the path that Emily had taken, which for the time being mirrored that of Merry and Pippin. He felt his heart sink when the first Uruk footprint appeared in the path. He held up his hand for the others to stop, there was no need for them to all blunder into a clearing filled with Uruks, and listened for any sound. There were none. Not even the pained breathing of someone near death. She was gone.

Taking a deep breath to still his nerves for the sight of her mutilated body, he stepped into the clearing. It was a small clearing and it only took a brief glance around to see that there was no body in it. The only things that remained were Emily's knives and a pair of boots. He stepped back and motioned for the others to follow him and watched as their expressions went from dread to shock to hope before coming back to dread. The Uruks had taken their hobbits _and_ Emily.

**ooOO88OOoo**

Emily was beginning to realize just how great a mistake she had made. Looking back, she realized that she should have distracted Boromir, let the Uruks take the hobbits and then joined the chase to retrieve them, not gotten captured herself. And if her getting captured _was_ the only way this could have played out, she should _not_ have hidden knives down her boots. It wasn't like she had had any illusions about her abilities to fight off Uruks that had killed a warrior of Boromir's caliber. All it had resulted in was her losing her shoes. Shoes she sorely missed. She had thought that her feet were tough after countless summers spent bare-foot, but . . . she now realized that she had been mistaken.

The ground they were traveling over was rough and broken, not to mention covered with leaves that masked the terrain. Add to that the fact that the Uruk leader behind her was impatient about allowing her to pick her way through it and soon it all combined to lead to her having feet that ached and bled. And it was a condition that wasn't helped by the Uruks.

Only moments before, she had stopped to pull a sharp stick from her foot. Her abrupt stop had caused the leader to crash into her and knock her to the ground. He had then bent and grabbed her by the braid, ignoring both her cries of protest and her hands scratching at his wrist, and dragging her back to her feet as he leered in her face.

"We ain't got time for this," he growled. "Either you move quicker or you die, understand?" Her eyes filled with tears both at the pain of it and the realization that she may very well die. She couldn't bring herself to speak so she nodded vehemently—though part of her mind desperately wanted to insist that she could have moved more quickly if they wouldn't have taken her boots—and started walking again as soon as he released her hair. She bit back sobs as she forced herself to put one foot in front of the other, trying desperately to ignore the pain as the sharp rocks and stick tore into her flesh.

She thought that she was making good time, but apparently it wasn't good enough because after a few more moments and another couple of shoves, the Uruk leader threw her roughly over his shoulder and bellowed a call to the others, who began to run in an attempt to make up for the time that they had lost to Emily's slow pace. Even though having the Uruk's shoulder digging into her stomach was far from comfortable, Emily was somewhat grateful for it. As long as he was carrying her, she didn't have to walk and damage her feet even further. And she felt that she should be grateful for that, even if it did mean that she, Merry and Pippin were being taken away from their friends even more quickly.

**ooOO88OOoo**

The others, however, were not grateful in the least. The ground there was hard, more rock than dirt, and even the iron shoes of the Uruks left little trace there. As little as they liked seeing the red blood of one of their companions—they weren't sure if it was from a hobbit or Emily but knew that since it was red it did not belong to an Uruk—it had at least given them something to follow. Once it disappeared, there was nothing to guide them and they were left hoping that the Uruks kept traveling in a straight line.

"We know their destination and path," Legolas offered quietly while Aragorn searched desperately on the trackless ground for some sign of the path they had taken. "Could we not simply travel that direction and attempt to head them off?"

"We could," Aragorn replied, his frustration at the situation coloring his words. It seemed as though there were no good choices anymore. Every decision he tried to make went ill and no matter what he chose this time there was a chance for his choice to do the same. And they had no time for yet another debate if they ever wanted to overtake the Uruks.

"However," he said deciding that he could share his thoughts while he searched for signs, "if we take a different path we run the risk of missing something important. Such as an escaped prisoner."

"Or a body," Boromir supplied, speaking for the first time since Emily's deception had been revealed and looking at Aragorn with eyes filled with sadness.

"Or a body," Aragorn agreed. "I feel that we would be better served following the path of the Uruks. They will choose the swiftest path over the planes of Rohan regardless. I just need to locate it."

"I believe this is a sign of their passing, or I am an Elf," Gimli said from just down the hill. Legolas raised an eyebrow at the expression but said nothing, more intent on finding their companions than on having words with the Dwarf about how he could still believe that being an Elf would be a bad thing.

"You are no Elf," Aragorn replied with a wan smile. "It is indeed a sign, and there is another. Come! Let us follow them while they last." There was no more talk for a time as the remainder of the fellowship bent all their energy on gaining ground they had lost to the Uruks.

**ooOO88OOoo**

And they had much ground to recover. After the leader had lifted Emily, their pace had more than doubled. From her position over his shoulder, Emily tried to see her fellow captives and discovered that they, too, were being carried. Both of them were unconscious and Merry had a sluggishly bleeding cut on his forehead that worried her. She hadn't remembered him being injured when Boromir had attempted to save them. She hoped that he would be alright. She couldn't stand the idea that she had sacrificed his life to save another.

But for a time all she could do was worry. The Uruks ran all day, never once stopping for a rest until night began to fall. There was no warning for Emily that a halt was coming—as she didn't speak Orcish—until she was unceremoniously dropped from the leader's shoulder. Her unprepared legs didn't hold her and she dropped to the ground in an ungainly heap. The leader sneered at her before walking away to talk with another Uruk and leaving her on the ground.

It took a moment for the shock of being free to register before she realized what it meant. She was free. Unbound and untouched. If she was quick about it, she could probably escape. The logical part of her mind told her that it was quite possibly the stupidest thing she had ever thought of, but her fight or flight response had been triggered and would not be ignored. As soon as his back was to her, she stood and took off at a run.

She made it, perhaps, ten steps before she was stopped. She cried out and cursed simultaneously. An Uruk had managed to grab the end of her braid. For the first time, she hated herself for giving into the temptation to have her hair styled manageably. If she hadn't braided it, he wouldn't have had a handle to stop her, or a leash with which to lead her back to the leader. She struggled to keep up with the pace he had set, but with the way he held her head and the pain from her feet it was difficult. She was sobbing again by the time he had her back to the group, both from the pain in her head from where her hair had pulled as she had stumbled along and from fear at what they would now do to her. What she had just done had been beyond stupid: it had been suicidal.

She tried to fight down her panic and her sobs and stand in front of the large Uruk as though she wasn't afraid, but the way that he was leering down at her made her start to cry in earnest. He stared at her for so long that she was beginning to think that nothing was going to come from her escape attempt, but then, faster than she could follow, he struck her, the back of his hand connecting with her face with enough force to knock her to the ground. Even though no one had ever hit her like that, she instinctively curled into a ball and brought her hands up in a weak attempt to protect herself from further blows.

One of his massive hands closed around both of her wrists and forced them away from her face while the other grasped her jaw with its thumb and forefinger to force her face up while the rest of them wrapped threateningly around her throat. She didn't miss the way he smiled at the fear in her eyes and the erratic pulse at her throat. He leaned in so that his face was only a hair's breadth from hers and spoke, his fetid breath filling her nostrils.

"Don't do that again," he growled. "We don't actually _need_ you. You aren't part of the orders, just a present. An extra that we can be rid of with no skin off our hides. You make trouble, you die. Understand?" To demonstrate his sincerity, his fingers tightened momentarily, only releasing her after her vision had begun to go black around the edges. While she lay on the ground sobbing and gasping for air, he said something to the others in their own language and something was brought forward, something that clanked. Before Emily could protest, or even realize what was happening, the Uruks had fastened heavy iron manacles around both her wrists and ankles. There was a chain connecting the bindings on her wrist to the hand of the leader. Even had she been foolish enough to try again, escape was no longer an option.

**ooOO88OOoo**

**Sorry about the delay on this one. My sister came into town last week and I didn't get the chance to do any writing while she was here. I also apologize for the shortness. That was the only place that I could cut it that didn't lead to an epically long chapter . . . The rest isn't written but I do have it planned out in my head and this was really the only point. :/**

**As always, thank you to everyone who took the time to read this chapter or to add it to your alerts or favorites.**

**And a special thank you to those of you who reviewed. Y'all really make my day!**

**UntilNeverDawns:**** I'm glad that I could do justice to the name! I hope that I continue to do so! Thank you! and I'm glad that you are enjoying the story!**

**Angel Bells:**** I'm glad that you are loving it. It's going to get dark here for a bit but it will—most likely—work out in the end ;)**

**Vault108:**** I'm glad that you found it as well! And I'm glad that I managed to create an OC that isn't a Sue. And I'm a bit of a punctuation nazi, but I've got so much going on right now that I just have to accept that there will be a few errors here and there and move on with my life :/ And I'm glad that you are enjoying it! Capslock love is ALWAYS appreciated :)**

**Kilataia: ****Thank you!****I'm glad that you enjoyed it!**

**Lira-leigh54:**** Thank you! I hope that it didn't cause you too much trouble the next day. And this was actually why I made her an elf in the first place (I had this part planned out from the get go) and figured that there was a history of Orcs taking Elves so it worked. I hope that you continue to enjoy it!**

**19seventythree:**** Thank you! I love to hear that I haven't lost people. And hope that you continue to enjoy it until it's done :)**

**SSJKarigan:**** Thank you! I thought that it was a solid plan. I couldn't see how to get him out of it alive any other way. I hope that the following chapters live up to your expectations and am glad that I have managed to keep your interest so far!**

**LOTRfan:**** Yep :) Couldn't kill him off here, that would be beyond cruel of me. And avoidance of the problem was the only way that I could see to get him out of it alive. I'm glad that you loved that! I felt like it was an Emily thing to do :) And as to what happens, you'll just have to wait and see ;) **

**KrystylSky:**** Oh Boromir is beyond guilty. Poor thing feels like dirt right now. :( and I will keep updating as long as there is a story to tell (I don't abandon things) and I'm glad that you liked it :)**

**Padme4000:**** Not a problem at all! :) Yeah . . . the whole fighting the Uruks idea is just . . . yeah. I couldn't see it happening, or at least not ending well if it did :/ And I'm glad that you liked it! Sometimes avoidance is the only way to deal with something. And I rarely do anything for just plot sake there is generally a motivation (actually that scene was the motivation for turning Emily into an Elf and it wasn't just my motivation—gotta love the Valar) I'm glad that you liked him moving. It seemed like the kind of noble, backward thing that he would do :/ **

**Nurseratchet: ****Thank you! and sorry that it wasn't soon. . . silly sisters coming into town . . . I hope you enjoyed it at any rate!**

**Guest: ****See, more! I hope that you enjoyed it!**

**Guest:**** There is now more :) I hope that you enjoyed it!**

**Well, that's all for now folks! I hope you enjoyed it and would love to hear what you thought (even if you hated it) so please leave me a review if you have time and/or feel so inclined.**

**Stickdonkeys.**


	22. Ropes, Hopeless Prayers and Futile Pleas

**Hey all, I've got a new chapter for you. And just a *******warning******* on this one, Uruks are creepy bastards and not particularly kind to women. While this chapter doesn't actually have a rape in it, there is a rather explicit ****threat**** of rape in this one and I don't want it to take anyone by surprise. If you don't wish to read it, or don't feel that you can stand to, please don't.**

**ooOO88OOoo**

After Emily had tried to escape, she had apparently lost her carrying privileges. Now, the leader simply held her chain dragging her behind him as he ran. It was difficult for her to keep up. Between her aching feet, weary muscles and the chain between her ankles she often stumbled. The few times that she actually fell, she was treated to a kick to the ribs before one of the Uruks would haul her to her feet by her hair. She almost envied Merry and Pippin for their continued unconsciousness.

Eventually, the leader called a halt and the Uruks sank to the ground, gulping air and water during their breather. Merry and Pippin were dropped to the ground and Emily dropped herself beside them. She gently brushed Merry's hair back from his face, looking closely at his wound and breathing a sigh of relief when she saw that it wasn't very deep. She thought that was a good sign. And his breathing was even, the only thing that worried her was his continued lack of consciousness. She didn't know much about head wounds but she thought that sleeping after one was a bad thing.

A quiet moan from beside her caused her to turn her head. Pippin was stirring sluggishly, attempting to move his bound limbs. She shifted slightly and touched his shoulder gently, his brown eyes flying open at the touch, the panic in them fading as he recognized her.

"Emily," he sighed. "It was just a dream. Oh, it was an awful thing! I thought that we had been captured by Orcs, but . . ." he trailed off as she smiled wryly and lifted her wrists to show the iron encircling them. The smile fell from his face and he shook his head in disbelief.

"We _were _captured?" he breathed. "Strider, Frodo, the others?" She shook her head sadly.

"I-I don't know," she sobbed. "They were fine the last time I saw them but—"

"You lot should save your breath," an Orc snarled at them. "You'll need it here in a bit. Why we bother with you scum I don't know. Here we are, running across horse country with three slow things. You'll be the death of us all. We should just kill you and be done with it.

"WE bother with them because those are the orders," the leader snapped. "My orders were to bring the Halflings to Isenguard alive and unspoiled. That's why we're bringing them."

"And the she-elf?" a different Orc demanded.

"She came because I said so and I'm in change," the leader replied, glaring at the challenger.

"She's more trouble than she's worth," the rebellious orc snapped. "Mark my words. Your Sharku won't reward you well enough for the trouble."

"She'll be worth more than _you_ are," the leader snarled, getting in the other Uruk's face in an attempt to cow him into submission. It failed. The Orc that had contested Emily's presence and the one that had wanted to kill the all rounded on the leader, prepared to overrule his decisions. Faster than either Pippin or Emily could follow, a brawl broke out and suddenly there were bodies on the ground without heads spurting blood all over everything. Emily felt her stomach churn as one of them fell near her and the hobbits, its limbs still twitching. The conflict wasn't over just because a few heads had rolled.

"What are you doing?" Emily hissed as Pippin crawled forward slightly and ran the rope around his hands along the edge of the blade. He shot her a glare that clearly said for her to be silent before the ropes gave and he crawled back to her side.

"Now retie them so I can slip them off if I need to," Pippin hissed into her ear.

"Why?" she demanded quietly. She couldn't understand _why_ he would want her to retie him. He was free, why would he want bound once more.

"So _they_ don't know," he insisted with a jerk of his head at the Uruks. "Just do it." With a sigh and a look that clearly said that she thought he was crazy she did as he asked. And not a moment too soon. Just as she got the knot finished, an Uruk grabbed her roughly by her chain and pulled her away from the hobbit.

"None of that," he hissed, his rancid breath washing over her face. "No untying the other prisoners."

"I wasn't," she answered honestly. "I was just helping him to loosen the ropes a bit. He can't feel his fingers."

"That'll be the least of his worries when we get where we're going," the Uruk said with a leer.

"Enough," the leader snarled, grabbing Emily's chain roughly from the Uruk that held it. "pick them back up, it's time to move out again. We've rested longer than we should've." With that, he gave a great bellow and they set out once more. Their next rest would be well after dark fell that night and they would run through the night with only a few short breaks, both Emily and the hobbits alternating between being drug and driven and carried as the night progressed. None of them knew how the other faired since they were kept separated by the column of Uruks.

**ooOO88OOoo**

The remainder of the fellowship followed after the Uruks and their lost members with a will but it seemed that the longer they ran the farther behind they were. Even as they seemed to gain no ground, they gave up no hope. They couldn't. They couldn't bring themselves to accept the possibility that they would never see the three of them again.

Even as dusk began to fall, they had no desire to stop. They knew that the Orcs would not stop with the darkness if they had traveled under the sun, but there were risks to continuing as well. They had found a sign that Pippin, at least, was alive and on his own two feet but they never would have found it in the dark. It was with heavy hearts that they decided that they would have to rest for the night, even if the Uruks did not.

"We should continue on," Boromir said almost desperately, his grey eyes wide. "We cannot afford to stop. Aragorn, you know as well as I do . . . Orcs . . . what they do to . . . to women. If she lives we cannot abandon her to that fate. Nor the little ones. If we cannot rescue them before . . . it pains me to think what will befall them if the Orcs get them to Isenguard." The others flinched both at his words and the tone they had been said it. It had been so hopeless, so lost and so full of pain: a pain that they all felt.

"I am afraid that we cannot do that, Boromir," Aragorn said, pity and regret in his grey eyes and his tone. "It would be folly for us to chase them through the night and encounter them too exhausted to fight them. What good would it do any of them if we rush in and lose our lives?" None of them liked the decision, but none of them could argue against his logic either. As they lay down to rest, they knew that in doing so they may have condemned their lost companions to fates worse than death.

**ooOO88OOoo**

The dawn came, and still the Uruks did not stop for a full rest, despite the near mutinous mood of some of the other factions. They were still running, Emily and the hobbits on their own feet again. She had seen the way some of the Uruks and especially the lesser Orcs had been looking at her and she was extremely uncomfortable. None of them had yet approached her, but she knew that it would only take time. For the first time she was glad that she was the personal prisoner of the leader, they seemed reluctant to come near him.

No sooner had that thought crossed her mind than, Emily felt a sob rise up her throat as a large arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her back against a solid body and what she _sincerely_ hoped was a knife handle pressing into her back. What followed dashed those hopes. The Uruk leaned down, whispering in her ear so that the others couldn't hear as they continued to follow the leader.

"You're certainly a pretty one, ain't ya?" The Uruk said. "Ain't never seen hair that color before." Emily couldn't respond. Her breathing was beginning to come in sobbing gasps. "I wonder if you have it the same color down below. Or do Elves even have hair down there? I've never fucked an elf before." A small plaintive whine came from her throat as he kept talking.

"I'll find out tonight," he promised darkly. "When we stop, I'll find out just what you look like under your clothes. Believe me on that. There's only one thing I can't decide." She was quivering with fear and dread as his hands began to roam. The only reason she didn't cry out was that she knew that no one—who could do anything about it at any rate—would care but she couldn't stop the whimpers that were rising up her throat with every sobbing breath.

"Wanna know what it is?" he whispered, nuzzling her neck in a parody of a lover's caress. An impatient yank on the chain at her wrist painfully reminding her that she had to keep walking despite the situation she was in. "I can't decide how I want to do it. I can't decide if I'd rather take you from behind a get a full view of what is most likely a nice ass," he grabbed her there to punctuate his words, kneading the flesh almost affectionately with a low growl of appreciation, "or if I'd rather take you head-on so that I can watch your face as I fuck you. Maybe I'll just do both. Start it one way and finish it another. It's not like anyone will stop me. Hell, they may want a turn with you once I'm done."

"Please," she couldn't help but beg even though she knew that it was useless, "don't do this."

"Oh, I'll do it," the Uruk promised, moving in front of her to look into her eyes, walking backwards. "And, not that it'll stop me, but the more noise you make while I do, the bigger the audience'll get. We don't mind watchin'. 'Specially if we know we'll be getting a turn later." At the thought of getting raped in front of an audience of Uruks that would then each take their own turn she felt desperation seize her. Part of her knew that what she was about to do was foolish and that it would never work, but she couldn't seem to stop herself. She grabbed the knife from his belt, planning to use it to threaten him, but when she moved he reacted and tried to stop the motion, leading to the knife cutting deeply into the flesh of his arm and spurting black blood across her hands and onto the grass.

With a bellow of pain, he punched her in the ribs, knocking her to the ground and winding her. At the feel of the chain wrenching in his grip, the leader turned to see one of his Uruks with blood gushing between his fingers and Emily on the ground holding a bloodied knife. He stalked towards them, anger burning in his gaze. He had known that elf bitch would be nothing but trouble. He had known that he should have just killed her there but the temptation of earning praise for going above and beyond had been too high and he was loath to get rid of her even now.

"What happened?" he demanded, the question snarled in the black speech, he didn't care for her version of events.

"She attacked me," the Uruk replied. "With my own knife." The leader growled. He wanted to ask what the other Uruk was doing close enough to her that she was able to take his knife, but he found that he didn't truly care. He stalked towards their captive, prepared to take the knife from her and give her a somewhat gentle _lesson_ in proper captive behavior, but that all changed. When he reached for her, she stuck the knife into his arm with a scream. All thoughts of even semi-gentle lessons disappeared as soon as she drew his blood.

He wrapped his hand around her neck, dragging her to her feet and forcing her to look into his eyes as she gasped for air. He saw panic flood their brown depths as she recognized him, then her mouth was moving, trying to form words that couldn't pass her lips without the oxygen that he was denying her. He loosened his grip slightly and she drew a shuddering breath before the pleading started.

"Please," she breathed tears pouring down her cheeks. "I didn't mean to stab you. Just let me explain. I _promise_ that I can. I wasn't trying to escape this time! I **swear** it! He was going to—" he squeezed his hand down once more, cutting off her explanation. He didn't care to hear it. Nothing she could say would give her the right to stab him and get away with it. And while he wouldn't kill her for it, he _would_ take away her ability to do it again. With a growl, he pulled the knife from his arm and held it up threateningly, enjoying the way her eye widened in fear, before throwing it at the Uruk it belonged to.

"Keep better hold on your weapon," the leader snarled glaring at him with hatred, "or the next time she takes it from you I hope she spills your filthy guts for the crows to feast on. If that happens, we'll leave your sorry carcass to die slowly. Understand?" The Uruk nodded silently before he slipped deeper into the ranks to separate himself from his angered and injured leader. With the Uruk gone, the leader turned his attention to Emily. He smiled maliciously at her before he released his hold on her throat—allowing her to gasp for air—and grabbed her right wrist with the hand that had previously been around her throat. He watched confusion settle into her eyes as he gently gripped the fingers of her hand with his other hand and placed his thumbs in the palm. It wasn't until he began to flex the bones that he saw understanding and panic flare once more.

As Emily realized that he was going to break her hand, she tried to pull it out of his grip but he was too strong and the terrible pressure of her bones bending didn't stop. Instead, it intensified. It was almost as if he was enjoying her struggles. The bones hadn't broken yet, but as they bent they burned as though they were on fire. Just as she knew that there was no way they could bend any farther without snapping, he stopped. He held them there, in that stressed position drawing this out as long as he could.

"Please!" she cried, her eyes filled with tears. "Please stop! I won't do it again. I swear. I'm sorry. I really didn't mean to stab _you_! and I really did have a good reason to—" her words cut off in a scream as he increased the pressure once more, a loud crack accompanying it as the bones finally broke. The leader waited until her screams faded to sobs before he felt along the bones checking to see how many he had managed to break. Her renewed screams of pain brought a smile to his face as did what he found. He had been worried that it would only be the center one, but he had managed to break three of them. With a feral grin, he released his hold on her wrist.

Her legs had already gone out from under her when he broke her hand, but with the release of her wrist she sank completely to the ground, curling protectively around the broken hand clutched to her chest. It burned and throbbed and ached all at the same time, the pain of it radiating all the way up her arm and down the right side of her chest. She had never broken anything before and had no idea that it would hurt _this_ much! She could only hope that he was now satisfied with her pain.

When she felt him pull on her chain, she hoped that it meant that they were moving out, but she wasn't _that_ lucky. The leader simply wanted to drag her to her feet once more before he grabbed her left wrist.

"No," she said, her voice a broken, desperate whisper as she shook her head to accentuate her plea. "No! NO! **PLEASE**! Don't do it! I **SWEAR**—" her words were cut off in another scream as the bones in her left hand were subjected to the same treatment as her right had been before they, too, caved under the pressure. The addition of the new pain was too much for her to handle and blackness engulfed her.

With a disgusted look at her, the leader kicked her in the ribs. When she didn't even moan, he gestured with his head to a nearby Uruk who threw her over his shoulder before beginning to run once again. The leader looked for their other captives to see how they had liked the demonstration of what happens when captives didn't behave and was pleased to see fear, shock and revulsion in the eyes. Perhaps she was useful after all. He couldn't actually harm the Halflings too extensively, but he could do as he would with her. And hers hadn't been the only voice pleading with him to stop. They were fond of her. Any pain that he cause her would affect them, which was good for him. After all, if _she_ died he could always leave her where she fell with no consequences.

**ooOO88OOoo**

**There we are all, a new chapter. I do apologize for this one. But even in the book, the Uruks are cruel to the hobbits (much more so than in the movie) and they are supposed to bring them back alive. Poor Emily doesn't have the same protection. I hope that despite the dark turn that this one took you still enjoyed it.**

**As always, thank you to everyone who took the time to read this chapter or to add it to your alerts or favorites.**

**And a special thank you to those of you who reviewed. Y'all really make my day!**

**UntilNeverDawns:**** I'm glad that you are still excited for updates! And I can't wait for y'all to see it either. I hope that you liked the newest chapter :)**

**Angel Bells:**** Well, I hope that you enjoyed the darkness in this one and that I didn't jump off the deep end too much. And I'll try to work a bit more Boromir in for you :) and we were just fishing in a little creek. He caught a perch :) **

**KrystylSky:**** Poor everyone and it's only going to get worse for them before it gets better :/**

**LOTfan:**** I'm glad that you are still excited for updates! I hope that this chapter didn't put you off too much. And . . . it ain't gonna be good. And yeah . . . I'm glad that you liked it but it's difficult for me to write such cruel creatures. I'm sorry that it wasn't soon, but do hope that it was worth the wait!**

**DepthOfMySubconsciousness: ****I'm glad that you appreciated the way that I had the characters initially take to her. I was worried that I had done that poorly, but I haven't heard so yet :) and yeah . . . cultural/temporal misunderstandings FTW! I'm glad that you found that funny :) And yeah, the fall of Gandalf is too important to mess with (as is the fall of Boromir in truth but I can work around the ripples that will cause . . . I think) And thank you! I'm glad that you appreciated the lag time of her her brain and sense catching up with one another (it was my glasses that gave me the idea as well. I swear that without them I run into walls and set things down where I swear there should be a table but there is only air).and thank you! I'm glad that you like the character's little musings. I occasionally worry that things drag a bit because of them but no one has complained yet so I suppose that means it's not :) I thought that cock-blocking seemed like a chivalrous thing to do (especially for stand-in fathers) ;) I'm glad that you enjoyed that! And I know! You would at least think that if they want to create an OC they would stick with the kinds of attributes their race had in the novels!That was always part of the plan. I never planned to kill him ;) and yeah . . . Emily occasionally does so REALLY stupid things, but I guess that's what's part of makes her human? All will be answered in time, but on that last bit, I swear that you crawled inside my head on that one. I had always intended it to happen (since it seems like a VERY Uruk thing to do) but I figured that I would edge it in and not just be like "bam! Capture and rape even though we need to escape quickly" **

**19seventythree:**** I agree with you! The poor man is being entirely too harsh on himself. Yes, he made a mistake or two, but Emily also made her own decisions and hers were truly much stupider in the long run. And the action is really going to pick up here for a bit and then there'll be a little lull and it'll rise right back up again :) I'm glad that you're still with me.**

**Lira-leigh54:**** Thank you so much! And I wouldn't have gone that route. Where's the fun if she can just kick ass and get out of anything. (but she's not a complete wuss either cause that's no fun either) and I agree. Poor Boromir. It really wasn't his fault . . . not completely. **

**Well, that's all for now folks! I hope you enjoyed it and would love to hear what you thought (even if you hated it) so please leave me a review if you have time and/or feel so inclined.**

**Stickdonkeys.**


	23. Guilt, Blame, Regret and Escape

**Ok all, sorry this one took a bit, but there are a couple of reasons. First off, it's massive. I was actually going to stop about halfway through and got a desperate plea to see the Uruk arc finished sooner rather than later. So, to keep from inhibiting study abilities, I complied. The other reason is the Uruks. They are cruel and heartless and writing them takes a lot out of me. I can't take too much of them in one sitting so it delays the process. Keeping that in mind, I hope that you all at least appreciate it if you cannot enjoy it.**

**And, by popular demand, there are nearly 2000 words of Boromir bits in this one! Enjoy!**

**ooOO88OOoo**

Despite knowing that Aragorn had spoken the truth, Boromir found that he was unable to rest. Legolas had offered to take the watch, as Elves required less sleep than either Men or Dwarves, but try as he might, Boromir could not sleep. Even with his eyes open his mind summoned images of Emily and the hobbits being harmed in various ways by the Orcs. When he tried to close his eyes, the images became even more graphic.

The last one had been the worst. Pippin had been dead, lying in a pool of his own blood with his merry little face twisted into a mask of pain and his eyes—though lifeless and unseeing—holding sheer horror. Merry had been holding a bleeding stump of what used to be his arm to his chest, his green eyes begging for help as his small frame shook from blood loss. And Emily . . . _she_ had been curled in on herself, her clothing in tatters around her and revealing bruised and lacerated flesh that left no doubt in his mind as to what had happened to her. She was sobbing heartrendingly and even though he wasn't actually there, she turned as he neared her and her brown eyes that had looked so fondly on him the last time he had seen her were narrowed in hatred.

"This is all _your_ fault," she spat, her voice almost unrecognizable due to the anger in it. "It's _your _fault that Pippin is dead and Merry maimed for life. You didn't even _try_ to save them. You let _me_ do it for you. And now . . . it'll be better for me if they kill me. I'll never be able to live with what's happened to me and it's all your fault. You are no Man, you are a coward. You should have faced them and died rather than allow me to be punished for your cowardice."

That had been the last nightmare that he had had before he gave up on trying to sleep. There would be no rest for him that night or any other until their companions were rescued. Even if he knew that it hadn't really been Emily saying such cruel things to him but rather a figment of his own guilty conscience, he couldn't help but feel that she was correct in her assessment of him. He felt a tear roll down his cheek as he realized that he had failed them all. Failed _her_.

From what she had written, even in the other version of history he had failed to prevent the capture of Merry and Pippin, but at least then he had made an end for himself that was worthy of song. He had slain countless Uruks before he had fallen. He had done his line proud. But this time . . . he had failed. Not just the hobbits, but the woman that he had come to love. He had been unable to keep her safe and now she was enduring Eru only knew what tortures at the hands of the Uruks. Any harm that befell her would be on his head. She had sacrificed herself to save him so he was as responsible for any injuries that she would sustain as if he had inflicted them upon her himself. Even if they managed to rescue her, he had no right to pursue her hand after the wrong he had committed against her.

The thought that he had already lost her even though neither of them was dead—at least not for certain—caused him to feel a pain he hadn't know that he was capable of. It seemed as if his very heart had been ripped from his chest and replaced by a void. He knew that no matter what condition they found her in he would never again be free to feel joy as he once had. How could he when she had experienced true horrors for his sake?

"You should rest," Legolas said quietly. He had debated long on whether he should interrupt Boromir's musings. Even though it was dark, the stars provided enough light for Legolas to see the pained expression on his face and the tears rolling down his cheeks. He knew what it was that plagued Boromir and that had been what decided him. The Man could not suffer this alone.

"I cannot," Boromir replied quietly. "When I attempt it all I see is . . . "

"I know," Legolas said gently, sitting beside the Man and placing a hand on his shoulder. "What you said earlier . . . it haunts me to think of what they may be doing to her and the little ones. I understand why they took the hobbits: Saruman knew that a hobbit would be carrying the One Ring and I am certain that he sought to take it for himself before it could be claimed by the Dark Lord, but Emily . . . I can think of no reason for them to have taken her. Or no reason that I wish to dwell on. As you said, Orcs are not kind to women."

"She is an Elf," Boromir said suddenly, clinging to a new source of hope. "I know that they have certain _uses_ for human women, but as an Elf, Emily would be better treated, would she not?" He flinched at the pain that flooded Legolas' eyes at his words. The Prince thought momentarily of lying to the Man but changed his mind nearly as quickly. It would do no good to lie to Boromir only for him to learn the truth later if they did manage to find Emily and he was confronted by the damage the Uruks were sure to have done to her.

"I am afraid not, my friend," Legolas said, his ageless face taking on a pain that Boromir hadn't known he was capable of. "Orcs and Elves, we have a long bloody history. There is no love lost between our races and no kindness can exist between us. Emily would have a better chance of survival if she were human. If she is still alive when we reach them . . . I fear the condition we will find her in. The hobbits . . . they should be fine. Saruman will desire them alive so that he can torture them himself and that is impeded if they are already gravely injured. Emily . . . I wish I could tell you to hope for the best, but I cannot as I am not sure what the best would be in this situation."

"Alas, I know what the best outcome would be and I cannot bring myself to hope for it," Boromir replied the pain in his heart intensifying with Legolas' confirmation of his greatest fear. "In my heart I know that it would be kinder for her if she has already passed from this world, but I cannot bring myself to wish such a thing. I . . ."

"You truly love her," Legolas said suddenly, surprised by the revelation. He had known that the two of them were fond of each other but he hadn't realized that their attraction had grown to this level. He suddenly felt regret that he had sought to keep them apart. Both of them were deserving of happiness after all.

"I do," Boromir replied. "Not that my feelings for her are of any consequence now. Even if she survives this she will hate me and she has every right to do so. I failed her."

"I apologize, but I disagree with you," Legolas countered. "You did not fail her. You did exactly as she wished of you: you survived. She willingly put herself at risk to save you because of her love for you. You did not put her up to it and did not attempt to use her as a shield. She made her choices."

"But I should have known that something was bothering her," Boromir argued. "She had been behaving strangely for days and rather than ask her, I assumed that she would come to me when she wanted to talk. If only I had asked her then perhaps she would have written her note sooner and all of this could have been avoided. There was no need for her to do as she did. She should never have felt the need to sacrifice herself for me."

"But she did," Legolas replied. "Nothing can now change her choice. Neither of us can accomplish anything by looking to the past and wondering what might have happened if we had made different choices. We can only move forward from here and attempt to mend the hurts that our collective actions have caused."

"I have no right to help her attempt to mend anything," the man argued. "Any hurt that has been committed against her was for my sake and is my fault. It is not within my rights to expect her to welcome my aid."

"She may need you more than any of us," Legolas replied. "She did it for you, after all. When we rescue her she will still want you by her side, more than ever if I guess correctly. For what it is worth, once she is with us once more you officially have my blessing as her self-appointed-surrogate-father to court her. If she was willing to make so grand a gesture due to her love for you I would be a fool to attempt to stand in the way." With the last words said, Legolas climbed to his feet and moved back to his post to continue his watch.

Boromir sat in silence once the Elf left. He knew that Legolas had been alive for more years than Boromir could even imagine, but he could not help but feel that despite all his years Legolas was mistaken this time. Emily would no longer desire his presence. He had lost her forever.

He was beyond pleased when the sun rose once more and they set out again. With something else to focus on—namely trying to keep his protesting muscles moving despite the fatigue that was setting in after more that twenty-four hours without sleep—he was able to drive thoughts of what awaited them at the end of the chase from his mind. And, for a time, he was able to forget the pain in his heart at having failed Emily.

**ooOO88OOoo**

Emily had no such luck. Nothing could distract her from the pain she was feeling. Every step she took was agony. From the pain in her bloody feet that was beginning to radiate up her legs to the pain of drawing breath through bruised ribs to the pain that even the slight shock of walking caused her hands as it jarred the broken bones. Every movement was one of pain and if she tried to slow to catch her breath or attempt to pick her way more carefully, the leader yanked on her chain causing the manacles around her wrists to not only rub the raw skin underneath but to put pressure on her hands. No matter what she did, it hurt her. She could not avoid pain.

Add to that that she was exhausted and unbelievably hungry—they hadn't given her food since her first escape attempt—and all she wanted to do was throw herself on the ground and refuse to move. At least if they killed her the pain would stop. But she couldn't bring herself to do it. Despite the pain of continuing to live, she found that she wasn't ready to die just yet. So she continued on, praying that rescue was coming soon because she didn't see how she could survive much more of this treatment.

And then her situation only grew worse. When noon came, the lesser orcs from Mordor and the Misty Mountains began to slow before they dropped to the ground and refused to go any further without a break. They were not made for travel under the sun and could endure it no longer. Even though none of the captives had ever thought to feel _grateful _towards orcs, the break was exactly what they needed as well. The heat and sun were beginning to get to them as well. Emily almost felt herself wishing that they would continue just a bit longer so that they could rest in the shadows of the trees that she could see in the distance.

This was going to be a longer rest, long enough for a short nap and as decent of a meal as could be scrounged together and due to this, the leader took the time to stake Emily out, driving a pole through the middle of the chain between her ankles so that she could not run. With her secured, he allowed the captives to visit with one another, knowing that seeing the pain that the others were in would help to mellow them all so as to avoid more pain themselves. With this in mind, he settled down near them to catch a few precious minutes of shut eye. Uruks may have been stronger than orcs, but they still required rest occasionally.

Emily, too, had taken the chance to take a nap. She was bone-weary and in pain. She knew the risk that she took in closing her eyes but she didn't have it in her to resist the siren's call of sleep. Even so, when she felt a gentle hand brush her hair back from her face, she opened her eyes with a start and prepared herself for the worst. Rather than the iron shoes of the Orcs, she saw the bare feet of a hobbit, with what was unmistakably a whip weal around his leg.

She looked up in shock to see the concerned eyes of Pippin staring down at her. She tried to smile at him but the movement pulled on her bruised skin from where the leader had struck her and it came out as a grimace.

"Are you alright?" He asked quietly before he gave a small humorless laugh. "I'm sorry that was a foolish question. Of course you are not alright." He reached out as if to touch her hands but pulled back at the last second. "Do they still hurt?"

Now it was her turn to laugh, "Yeah," she said quietly. "They still hurt. Everything hurts, Pippin. But enough about me, I see you've got an injury too. How'd you get it?"

"Oh, this?" Pippin asked, a bit of his old humor coming back as he joked about his own punishment. "I got it as a _reward_ for leaving a sign for our friends. Such gentle and forgiving creatures, Orcs. Right, Merry?"

"Oh yes," Merry replied sarcastically. "The very meaning of the work 'kindness.' Wouldn't you agree, Emily?"

"I'm afraid not, guys," Emily said sadly. She couldn't bring herself to joke about her injuries, not when she couldn't even rest due to the pain of them. "Either that or kindness means something else entirely where I'm from." She closed her eyes as Pippin stroked her hair.

"I'm sorry, Emily," he whispered. "That was in poor taste. I just . . . I don't quite know how to handle this. I almost wish that Gandalf hadn't convinced Lord Elrond to let me come. But you . . . you didn't even get a choice in this."

"I did," Emily said offering him a sad smile. "I had a choice and looking back I made a horrible one. There were so many other ways that I could have handled this and I chose to do it this way. I'm an idiot."

"It will work out, Emily," Merry said quietly from beside Pippin. She looked up at him, saddened by the brown mark on his forehead where he had been injured. "Don't worry about that," he laughed touching it gently. "It doesn't even hurt anymore. I'm not sure what they put on it—and don't know that I _want _to know—but it fixed it. And don't worry too much about where we are. I know that it looks bad, but, mark my words, Strider and the rest of the fellowship will be right on our heels. They'll save us. You'll see."

"I hope you're right," she said knowing in her gut that he was wrong. It had been too long. If she remembered correctly, the hobbits had only been with the Uruks for one day and had been rescued that night. They were already well into their second day. No rescue was coming. Gandalf had been right about the danger of changing things and now Merry and Pippin would pay for her mistakes, as would she.

"He is," Pippin said with a warm smile for her. "It wouldn't surprise me if they show up any time now. Not even Uruks could outrun them with a will behind them, and I assure you, there's a will behind them. Thanks to you. Oh, I'm sure they would come after us as well, but Boromir will drive them hard since you are in danger."

"Why do you say that?" Emily asked, referring more to the fact that they seemed to think that her presence would increase the rate of pursuit than the fact that Pippin thought that Boromir would be a driving force.

"I may not be of age," Pippin replied with a true laugh, "but even _I_ know what the looks that Man has been giving you mean."

"Oh?" Emily asked in mock curiosity, enjoying losing herself to the light banter between them, "And what looks are you talking about?"

"The lust filled ones," Merry replied. "Or, that's what I would call them in a lesser Man. From Boromir I would call it love and fierce desire. Lust seems too base a word to describe anything about him." Before Emily could reply that _all_ men—no matter their nobility—were subject to lust their conversation was interrupted by a large clawed hand closing around her throat.

She instinctively grabbed for it, trying to loosen the hold, only to stop as the pressure it put on her hands made her vision go white and a scream rise up her throat that couldn't get past the hand clamped around it. Once her vision cleared, she could clearly see the face of the Uruk that she had cut that morning leering down at her.

"Told you I'd be back," he sneered. "And I _was_ going to be a bit gentle with you but then you gave me this." She felt her eyes widen with fear and her mouth moved to beg, though no sound came out as she gasped for air. With both her hands broken and her feet staked down there was nothing that she could do to stop him. She squirmed under him but he only seemed to enjoy that. Just as her vision began to dim around the edges, he released his hold on her throat and air rushed in before rushing back out in a stream of useless pleas.

"I like it when you beg," he whispered before rearing back with a hiss. There may not have been anything that Emily could do to stop him, but both of them had forgotten about the hobbits. Merry and Pippin had valiantly latched onto the Uruk, Merry being particularly vicious and digging his fingers into the wound that Emily had put there earlier that day. The Uruk roared in pain before batting away Pippin with one hand before backhanding Merry across the face and away from them. He hit the ground and didn't stir. Emily looked at him in shock. Merry had to be ok, he just had to . . . and then her thoughts were pulled back to herself as she felt her shirt lifted up, barring her stomach and revealing the pants she wore beneath it.

"Please," she whispered, knowing even as she did that it was useless. "Please, don't. Don't. I don't want this. You can't."

"I can," the Uruk said darkly, his clawed hand tracing down her stomach before grasping the ties of her pants and ripping them. "And I will. No one will stop me." At his words, Pippin once more threw himself recklessly at the Uruk and was swatted away again, falling hard on his shoulder with a sharp cry of pain. Emily tried again to squirm out from under him but with her feet bound couldn't go anywhere.

"No," she breathed as his hands began drifting south. **"NO!"** the last word came out in a scream and was accompanied by a blinding flash of light from the direction of the trees that engulfed the camp before moving on across the plains. She closed her eyes at the flash and soon after, the Uruk on top of her was gone.

She opened them, expecting to see Gandalf standing there, glowering at the Uruk's corpse, but instead saw the leader holding him there by the throat.

"What do you think you were doing?" the leader snarled in the Black Speech, Emily cringing at the tone even though she didn't understand the words. The Uruk in his hands made a few strangled noises before the leader cut him off once more. "Actually I don't care. I see now why she sliced your arm open. You are not to rut with her."

"Why not?" the Uruk demanded. "She's a female, nothing more and not even one of the _precious_ Halflings. There's no reason I can't."

"You're not breeding stock," the leader snarled. "I don't know what Sharku may want to do with her, but if he wants her for breeding the last thing we need is for her to have _your_ whelp inside her so that we either have to wait for her to birth it so we can kill it or beat her 'till she loses it to start over. The lost time isn't worth your urges. She is not for you. Try it again and _I _will be the one to spill your guts for the crows." With that said, he threw the other Uruk from him and moved towards Emily, murder still burning in his eyes.

She tried to crawl away from him on her elbows but was still unable to go anywhere. He wordlessly grabbed the pole that had her staked out and pulled it from the ground, his glare never leaving her. Knowing what was coming she curled into a ball in an attempt to present a smaller target but she couldn't help the stream of words that came from her mouth.

"I don't know what he said but I had nothing to do with the flash I **swear** it!" she cried, trying to at least lessen the beating that she knew was coming. "Please don't hurt me, I didn't do it!" She flinched as she felt him grab the chain connected her wrists and curled up tighter knowing that he was going to try to force her to uncurl before he beat her. But the beating never came. Instead the stake was driven through that chain before he grabbed her hair and forced her face up to look at him.

"I know you didn't do that," the Uruk snarled. "If you had any magic you wouldn't have let me do this," he prodded one of her broken hands making her cry out once more. "I'm not a fool. We will be staying here for a while longer. If he tries that again, kick his balls through his throat." With that the Uruk stalked off, leaving Emily completely perplexed as to why she hadn't gotten a beating and why he had enabled her to defend herself. Not that she was truly questioning his motives, just confused by them.

Just as the leader passed Pippin, the hobbit scrambled to his feet and back to Emily. Instantly he was pulling her shirt back down and trying to check her for injuries.

"Are you alright?" He breathed.

"I'm fine," she lied her breath still coming in sobs and tears still pouring down her cheeks. "Merry?" At her words, pain crossed Pippin's face as he hopped over her to his friend's side. At his touch, Merry's eyes fluttered open and he smiled before wincing and placing his bound hands against the rapidly swelling bruise on his face.

"He's fine," Pippin called before pulling Merry to his feet and leading him back over to Emily. Once there, they both took a place on either side of her, Pippin in front crawling between her bound arms and using the bottom one as a pillow and Merry curling up against her back.

"I'm sorry," Merry whispered once her sobs subsided slightly. He wasn't sure how long he had been unconscious and just how far things had gone and didn't feel that it was right to ask. He only knew that it had gone further than it should have. "I'm sorry we weren't more help."

"You tried," she replied. "That's what counts." He snorted softly but didn't argue with her. And so it was that the three captives passed into the restful sleep that only exhaustion can bring.

**ooOO88OOoo**

There was no rest to be had for the four hunters. They ran without pause across the grasslands, the trail of wanton destruction left by the Orcs easy to follow even for those of them not skilled in tracking. And the longer they ran, the more irate Boromir became. They had stopped the night before because they had believed that there had been a chance that the Orcs would lose a prisoner and that if they did there would be a trail to follow. There had been no side-trail that day, nor any sign of the Orcs. Even the dust cloud that marked their passing had ceased to be visible. They had failed again.

They now stood no chance of catching up before they reached Isenguard. The Orcs were too fast and had not paused to rest. He had feared this would be the outcome, but none had listened to him. Their weakness had cost their companions their lives. Part of him knew that it was grief and exhaustion thinking for him, which is why he kept his dark thoughts to himself, but he was unable to completely silence the voices that wanted to rage at Aragorn for his decision. Even though he knew that Emily would never love him after such a gross failure on his part, he still wanted her to be safe and well. Not in the dungeons of Isenguard enduring Eru only knew what.

When they stopped again to rest that night after the moon set, Boromir was grateful that he hadn't rested the night before because it enabled him to fall into a deep and dreamless sleep. Even though he was to have had a watch that night, no one had the heart to wake him. Thought they all missed their lost members, they knew that he felt the loss the strongest and that he should rest while he was able. They all knew that it had been too long. Their hunt was now a corpse recovery mission. They tried to tell themselves otherwise, that there was still hope, but . . . they knew that it was untrue. It had been two full days since they had been captured. Too much time had passed for a successful rescue mission. And they knew that once they found their companions . . . then, sleep would be hard for any of them to come by.

**ooOO88OOoo**

Emily awoke hours later to a shrill cry in her ear. At first she mistook it for her alarm clock and blearily moved her left arm to shut it off only to be stopped with a clank when she reached the end of the chain. With a start she realized that the shrill cry had come from Merry, who had been kicked in the back to wake him. She glared up at the Uruks that stood above them and gave her right arm—the one under Pippin's cheek—a shake to wake him.

He moaned quietly and snuggled into her arm. She shook it again, grimacing as the movement aggravated her broken bones.

"Pippin," she hissed between her teeth. "Wake up."

"Is breakfast ready?" he mumbled back. "I'll get up when there's food."

"I don't think Uruks do breakfast, Pippin," she replied. At her words he sat up abruptly and jarred her arms in the process. She swore vehemently as she tried to ride out the tide of pain but felt bad when her vision cleared and she say the hurt in his eyes at having caused her pain.

"I'm fine," she lied again, attempting to smile at him. Even she knew that it was a pathetic parody of a smile.

"Then we ain't done our jobs," one of the Orcs—this one bearing the Red Eye of Mordor—sneered down at her before grabbing the pole from the ground and raising it threateningly. She curled into a ball once more knowing that this time the beating was actually coming.

"See how she cowers," crowed one of them. "She's already sniveling and you ain't even hit her yet."

"Too bad we ain't actually got time for this," the first sighed before smacking her in the ribs with the pole. "None of that now. Get up. We gotta move. That flash of yours did more than just scare that"—here there was a word in the Black Speech that Emily didn't know but sounded vile—"it drew the horse men. We have to move double-time to get to the forest. They won't be able to surround us there and we can make a stand. I wouldn't say no to a little horseflesh."

"Not to manflesh neither," said another. "Wonder what Elf tastes like."

"Probably vile," the leader said as he took possession of Emily's chain once more. "Enough talk. Run!" Before Emily could try to stand she was over the leader's shoulder and they were off. While she did prefer being carried to being forced to run it was hard for her to endure it knowing that any delay might be the difference between death and torture in Isenguard and rescue by the Rohirrim.

Not for the first time, she wondered why the Uruks hadn't carried them more often. Without her clumsy picking and the hobbit's short legs the Uruks made much better time. And before she knew it, she was being dropped to the ground the eves of the woods. But rather than stake her to the ground, this time the leader forced her to stand before throwing the free end of her chain around a tree branch above her head.

"Maybe you are useful," he snarled. "If they see you they might be more reluctant to attack. Human males are ridiculously protective of females." She hoped that he was wrong. She couldn't live with herself if she was the reason that Merry and Pippin were unable to escape. Not that she'd have long to live if that was the case. She supposed that, at least, was merciful. With her secured, he returned to the perimeter that the Orcs were creating, leaving her alone in the middle with Merry and Pippin.

"I'm sorry," she whispered looking at the battered and bruised faces of the hobbits. That was her fault. The Uruks hadn't been unkind to them before. It was her presence that had changed things. They looked at her in confusion. But she didn't elaborate as to what it was that she was sorry about.

"As soon as the battle starts, run," she said seriously.

"We will," Pippin replied brightly. "You, me and Merry. Right into the forest. They won't find us there."

"How am I supposed to come with you, Pippin?" She asked pulling on the chain to see if it would budge. It didn't. "I'm tied to a tree. And I'll just slow you down. Go. Don't worry about me."

"Well that's a foolish thing to say," Merry said as he walked forward to give Pippin a boost to see if he could reach the end of the chain and throw it over the tree the other way. Emily would have laughed if it wasn't such an inappropriate time for laughter. Pippin was standing on Merry's shoulders and swatting at a chain hanging above his head like a cat. That was something that she had never thought to see.

"Guys, it's useless," She sighed after it became apparent that Pippin—even on Merry's shoulders—couldn't get enough force behind the chain to throw it over the branch. When it fell with a loud clank she winced knowing that they were about to draw undesired attention. Though how such a small sound would be heard over the din of battle cries and intimidation tactics she didn't know. But it was more than she was willing to risk.

"Guys, please! Please stop it!" she sobbed. "Don't make them come back over here. Please I-I can't." With a defeated sigh, Pippin climbed down from Merry's shoulders and looked up at Emily.

"We can't leave without you," he said determination and desperation in his brown eyes. "We won't. Right, Merry?" Merry looked at Emily and she could see the pain in his eyes. He knew, the same as she did, that there was no way that she could come with them. Even if they _could_ get her untied from the tree, they would need stealth and speed to escape undetected and she wasn't capable of either of those things at the moment. If she came, they would be recaptured.

"Merry?" Pippin repeated.

"She's right, Pip," Merry said, looking at Emily sadly. "She's right. She can't come."

"Then we won't go either," Pippin replied stubbornly. The idea of abandoning her was unacceptable to him. Friends didn't leave friends to be tortured.

"Do you realize how stupid that sounds?" Emily demanded. "The two of you can escape. You're small, you'll get lost in the chaos. There's no reason that we all have to go to Isenguard. And if you get away . . . maybe . . . maybe you can come rescue me." She tried to keep her voice bright, but she knew that if the Riders didn't kill the Uruks and rescue her that there would be nothing left for Merry and Pippin to try to rescue. It was a gamble but one that she was willing to take if it meant that her mistake wouldn't result in their deaths.

"No," she said firmly. "The two of you go. I'll be ok."

"Well, what if—"

"No, Pippin," she whispered. "I can't keep up. You _know_ it. I can't come and you can't stay. Even if you _can_ figure out some way to untie me I can't fight. I can't run. I can't climb. I can't come. And it's you two that Saruman actually wants. So _y'all_ have to go." She tried to keep the tears from her eyes, but it was more than she could stand when Pippin and Merry both hugged her tightly.

"We will see you again," Merry promised.

"Sure," she agreed. "We'll see each other again. Maybe I'll even have a smoke with you, or maybe a drink. I _might_ even be persuaded to sing and dance with you if you get enough alcohol in me." At her last words, the sound of a horn that was clearly not an Uruk horn sounded from the direction of the grasslands.

"That's your chance," Emily whispered desperately. Things were not playing out how they should have, not really, and she didn't want to see the hobbits killed in the battle by accident. "Go." With a final pained glance at her, Merry and Pippin turned and ran into the woods, Pippin shedding his bonds as he went. They had just passed beyond her sight into the gloom of Fangorn when Emily heard a bellow that was clearly filled with rage.

_No, oh God no, _she mentally pleaded just before her hair was grabbed and her face turned to look into the enraged face of the leader.

"Where. Are. The. Halflings?" he demanded.

"I don't know!" she snapped hoping that the truth of the fact that she wasn't sure where they were in the forest would cover the lie that she knew they were there. "Is it my job to keep up with them? I thought it was _your_ job." She flinched as he raised a hand to strike her but he stopped before grinning maliciously at her and calling something in the Black Speech. Two other Uruks, including the one that had tried to rape her, came over quickly.

"I want you to _ask_ our _friend_ here where our Halflings went," the leader said in the common tongue with a cruel smile. "I don't care how you get the information. Without the Halflings, we're all dead. If she dies before she tells us it don't matter."

"No rape," he added in the black speech. "Threaten her with it if you want but if she gives the Halflings up that still presents the same problem it did before."

"I told you that I don't know!" she called desperately. "If I don't know I can't tell you!"

"Ah, but we think you do," one of the Uruks replied. "You'll tell us eventually. Now what direction did they go?"

"I-I don't know," she sobbed. Her cries came harder as she felt a knife point touch her back. She knew then that she was going to die. Not at some distant point but right here, right now. She didn't want to die. "They went to the forest!" she yelled, feeling shame, dark thick and horrible, well within her as she gave the hobbits away. She only hoped that they had had enough time to get far enough away to hide.

"We knew that much," the Uruk with the knife snarled in her ear. "You're going to have to do better than that." As he spoke the knife angle changed and merely grazed the skin as he cut her shirt open. "Such pretty colors," he said running his clawed hand along her bruises and pressing against them causing a cry to rise up her throat. "I wonder how many more colors you have in you. Eh, do you know what color Elf blood is?"

"Ain't never seen it before," the other Uruk replied. "Should we find out?"

"No," Emily whimpered. "It's red. I've seen it. I can tell you."

"But you lie to us," the first Uruk said. "We can't believe you. What do you say we draw blood until she tells us the truth or her screams draw them back."

"They _left_ me," she said trying a different tactic. If she couldn't lie to them about where the hobbits were maybe she could lie about how much she mattered to them. "They won't come back. Obviously they don't care very much for me."

"Then you can either give them up or die," the second Uruk said, moving to stand with the first. No sooner had he left than the first blow fell. She wanted to scream, truly she did, but there was no air in her lungs to allow it. And before she could properly draw air to beg or scream or _anything_ the second fell. Then another.

She wasn't sure how long this lasted, but the pain only continued to build until it stopped building and just held steady. Suddenly no more blows were falling and she wondered if the Uruks had given up or if she was just so far gone that she couldn't feel it anymore. There were shadows on the edges of her vision and she wasn't sure if it was unconsciousness or death beckoning her and she wasn't sure that she cared either way. The last thing that she saw before the darkness claimed her was a large blonde man on a horse coming towards her.

**ooOO88OOoo**

**There we are all, the Uruk arc is now complete. Thank God! Now onto lighter things . . . like relationship angst and mental issues . . . much better :)**

**Thank you for sticking with me through this and if you made it to the bottom! Congrats! The worst is behind us . . .in the physical torture sense at any rate.**

**As always, thank**** you to everyone who took the time to read this chapter or to add it to your alerts or favorites.**

**And a special thank you to those of you who reviewed. Y'all really make my day!**

**UntilNeverDawns:**** I'm glad that you thought it might be in a good way because it made me nauseous to write. That last scene especially. And yeah . . . Uruks in general are probably on the shit list more so than they ever were. .. I almost feel sorry for them . . . almost.**

**Angel Bells:**** I'm glad that you liked the darkness :) and there will be LOTS more of Boromir coming up. And I never intended to go all the way with the rape . . . that would have been TOO much. Though as you are now dead (as per your PM status) I doubt that you will ever get to read the reconciliation I have planned :/ Sadness.**

**Intoxicatedasphyxiation:**** They are. And Yes, the Uruks ARE being much too nice but I figured that since they were in a hurry and figured that they would have time once they got to Isenguard they wouldn't hurt her too badly. . . they still needed her to run, after all.**

**Katia0203:**** Yeah . . . I hear you. That was brutal to write. I actually had to walk away for a bit before I could finish it (and wound up writing a VERY fluffy hobbit three shot to make up for it since even I needed something light after that. . .). I'm glad that it didn't make you give up on me. Good news though! The Uruk arc is done! No more Uruk cruelty!**

**LOTRfan:**** Thank you! She is VERY lucky that they were in a hurry. And yeah . . . it really could have gone MUCH worse even than it did (and might have if I could have brought myself to do it) And yeah . . . really throws a wrench in her plans of plot-fixing, eh? I hope that you liked how I decided to go about it. Changes will get WILD from here on out as the ripples from her changes compound :) It'll be a blast! **

**Lira-leigh54:**** Yep. Poor Emily :'( And they were hard to write . . . so hard to write. I'm glad that you think I did a good job on them :) And I'm glad that you liked the darker tone! 'cause nope it is the WAR of the Ring, after all. I hope that you liked the way I went about her rescue :)**

**19seventythree:**** Thank you so much! It was a very hard one for me to write. I prefer writing emotional turmoil and mental angst, not torture. And yeah . . . she's a bit helpless at the moment. I hope that you liked the newest chapter (with new and improved Boromir bits!)**

**Well, that's all for now folks! I hope you enjoyed it and would love to hear what you thought (even if you hated it) so please leave me a review if you have time and/or feel so inclined.**

**Stickdonkeys.**


	24. Difficult Decisions

Once he was certain that all of the Uruks had been dispatched, Éomer turned his attention to the prisoner. He sighed as he looked at her. He wasn't sure just how long she had been their captive, but it was readily apparent that she had somehow managed to displease them. He could see the livid bruises that covered most of her visible skin even through the layer of filth that covered it and he had no doubt that the rest would be the same. He also knew that he couldn't leave her there. She would die without care and even as much as she would hinder them he couldn't bring himself to leave her to her death.

With a sigh he dismounted and began to search for a way to free her. As he checked for a way to undo the manacles on her wrists he amended his earlier thought. She must have done something to _greatly_ displease them as they had taken the time to break both of her hands. Suddenly the bright flash from earlier that day rose to his mind and he wondered if she was somehow responsible for that.

"What will I do with you?" he asked even though he knew that no answer would come from her. He could only see three choices before him: he could leave her there to die; He could send her to his sister in Edoras where she could serve as physical proof that he had defied his uncle's ban on hunting Uruks; or he could keep her with them and risk her dying on the road before she was healed up enough to leave them. None of the alternatives truly appealed to him and he decided to shift his focus. First, he would free her from the tree and then he would decide what to do with her.

Though it had just been dusk when they had first attacked the Uruks, it was truly dark by the time that he came to the realization that if he wanted her out of the tree someone was going to have to climb it and free her. With another deep sigh he moved towards the trunk and began to climb. Thankfully she had been tied to a low branch that looked as if it would support his weight.

"Sir," he heard Éothain, his second in command, call from the ground below, "why are you in the tree?"

"Freeing the prisoner," Éomer replied concentrating more on _not_ falling out of the tree than on forming a complete sentence. He had very little experience with climbing trees. The plains of Rohan provided few opportunities for practice, even for rambunctious little boys.

"And what do you intend to do with her once she is free?" he asked.

"Not sure yet," Éomer muttered. "Catch her," he called in a louder voice. With the order in place he slowly unwound the chain from the branch and tossed it to the side so that it wouldn't fall on either of their heads. With a quick glance at the ground that did nothing to make him feel more comfortable in the tree, he began edging back the way he had come, eager to get back to the ground without falling there.

"Um, Sir?"

"Not now. Just let me get on the ground first, please," Éomer replied as he made the last treacherous move backwards from the branch to the trunk and then to the ground. "Now what did you want to tell me?" Éothain looked nervously from his commander to the woman in his arms before he spoke.

"Sir, do you realize—"

"That she's gravely injured? Yes."

"No. She is at that but she is also—"

"Proof that I defied my uncle. Yes, I know," Éomer replied exasperatedly. He didn't need it pointed out to him that she might just be his condemnation. Even so, he couldn't leave her there to die. It went against everything in him. I he had to face some punishment for attempting to save a life so be it.

"Yes," Éothain agreed, equally exasperated that he had been cut off not once by twice. "Sir, she is all of that but do you also realize that she is not human. She is an Elf."

"And Elf?" Éomer asked incredulously. She hadn't looked like an Elf. He approached the pair and took a closer look at her. Now that it had been pointed out to him he could see that underneath the dirt and bruises her features held a fairness that spoke of more than human beauty. Rather than be pleased by this, he was now even more conflicted than he had been moments before. This fixed nothing and, in reality, caused more problems.

This was actually the first female Elf that he had ever seen and it did not bode well. He now knew that not only had she more than likely had something to do with that flash of light, but that sending her to Edoras was not an option. He could not, in good conscience, send a she-elf into his uncle's city to receive treatment. She couldn't be trusted. She was safe enough while she was unconscious, but once she healed enough to awake . . . he could not risk it.

But despite his distrust of her he also could not leave her here to die. Elves were strange creatures with unknown abilities, but from what little he knew of them he knew that he did not want to truly be on their bad side. A bit of mutual distrust between neighbors with no bloodshed was one thing, but the fact that he had never even heard of a female Elf being seen abroad made him think that allowing her to die would be tantamount to a declaration of war between them and the Woods of Lothlórien. A war that they could not afford while Saruman continued to move Uruks across their lands.

No. She could not be left here and she could not be sent to Edoras. The only option was to keep her with him and hope that they could keep her alive until the pursuit that he knew would be coming could arrive. What happened after that . . . well, they would have to be content in the knowledge that he had done the best that he could for her if she did not survive. They could not fault him that she had been captured by the Uruks. The fault for that was theirs for not keeping a closer watch on her and they would be able to find no fault in his treatment of the wounds she had sustained due to their carelessness. It was all that he could do in the situation.

"How long until the bodies are taken care of?" Éomer asked resignedly. Just because it was the only solution that he could think of did not mean that it had to be one that he was satisfied with.

"The last of the fires are being lit as we speak," He replied. "What do you want me to do with her?"

"Help me to get her on a horse," Éomer sighed. "She is coming with us." Éothain looked at him as though he had lost his mind but did not protest and instead helped to lift her on to the saddle in front of Éomer.

"Are you taking her to Edoras?" Éothain asked wondering how long they were going to be left alone or if Éomer would ever return to them after this.

"No," Éomer replied with a wry smile. "She is coming _with_ us. We are going to ride back up the Uruk trail a distance and see if we can locate her rescue party and give her to them. She can become their problem."

"A brilliant solution, Sir," he replied with a smile as he went to finalize the orders to move out. Once the Rohirrim was mustered again, they moved out, riding a few hours back up the trail until both horse and man were weary at which point they stopped to make camp.

"We will wait here until noon tomorrow," Éomer declared as he dismounted and carried the Elf to the tent the healer was setting up. He had decided that since Elves were said to be swift if they had not come by then they would not come at all. Once in the tent he pulled the healer aside.

"I need you to treat her wounds," he whispered nodding down at the unconscious female in his arms. "But there is something that you must know and the others not. It would only serve to cause a panic in the ranks and I do not wish that. Look carefully at her. What do you see?"

"She is—"

"Yes," Éomer agreed solemnly. "She is. The others must not know. Do you understand me? Treat them first and then keep them out."

"She may die if I leave her wounds untreated for so long," the healer said panic clear in his words at the idea that his lack of care might cause her to die and bring war down on them all.

"She may die despite your care," Éomer replied simply. "A few hours will likely make little difference. I will not have the men unnerved by this. Will you do as I have asked?"

"I will," the healer replied with a sigh. "Place her over there in that corner out of the way. I will get to her as soon as I can." Éomer did as he was told, wishing fervently that she had never come into his care. Little did he know that if they had ridden for just five more minutes they would have come across the place where the fellowship had bedded down for the night and he would have been rid of her.

The healer, on the other hand, looked at the long line of wounded that he had from the battle. The Uruks had been merciless and he had already lost one of their own to death with two more that would not last the night no matter what he did for them. He had already give up and moved on, but he knew that no sleep would come for him that night, even without including treating the injuries of the she-elf. He only hoped that Éomer intended to camp where they were through the next day so that he could rest one he was done.

**ooOO88OOoo**

As the healer had suspected, dawn found them before he had finished with the last of the injuries of the men of the Rohirrim. He then turned his attention to the she-elf, pleased to see that she hadn't died in the night while he had been otherwise occupied. He was trying to decide where to start when a runner came to him saying that Éomer wanted him to give him the woman, her group had come to claim her. The healer surrendered her gladly. At least her fate was no longer his concern. If she died, it was not his fault if their peoples went to war.

**ooOO88OOoo**

True dawn also found the fellowship already on the move. Boromir had only slept a short time and it was fitful. He had been awake before dawn and at the first hint of lightening in the east he had roused the others and they began again. They had only gone a short distance when the sight of wood smoke in front of them caused them to pause. They briefly debated about whether to approach the camp or to go around it and pick up the trail on the other side. It was Aragorn that eventually gave the words that led them into the camp of the Rohirrim.

"Perhaps they can give us information or aid us some other way in our current quest," Aragorn reasoned. Though what he was actually thinking was that perhaps the Riders of Rohan could be tempted to aid them in fighting the Urk-hai. He knew that even with the power of surprise on their side, it would be a hard fought battle even with their aid, without it . . . their quest was suicide. "What say you?"

Legolas seemed to catch the ranger's train of thought and nodded wordlessly; hope beginning to return to his blue eyes at the possibility of aid to complete their rescue; however slim the possibility of a successful rescue was was. He nodded his agreement to enter the human encampment in search of the aid they so desperately needed.

Boromir, while not catching Aragorn's mood, had his own reasons for wanting to visit. He knew that his neighboring kingdom had the finest horses in Middle Earth. He was entertaining the idea of requesting mounts by virtue of his position in Gondor and freeing the fellowship from their perpetual running. This was especially important to him since it was readily becoming apparent that they would never catch the Uruk-hai on foot. Horses might provide just the edge that they needed to catch the Uruks before they were safely behind the walls of Isenguard. At least they would stand a better chance of saving the hobbits and Emily. Even though he _knew_ that it was too late for her, his heart refused to allow him to leave her out of the rescue plans. With this in mind he eagerly agreed to Aragorn's suggestion.

Gimli, too, agreed, but for a different reason than any of the others. He was hoping that the stop off in the encampment would give him a chance to take a short breather. Walking for days on end was something that he could easily do, but running . . . especially when he had to take two strides to every one taken by the taller members of the party . . . well, it was beginning to take a toll on him. Dwarves may have been made of sterner stuff than Men but they were no indistructable and it had been a very difficult three days for him. Even though he had stayed out of the discussions on the probablility of sucuess, he had privately figured it and hadn't liked what he had come up with. He, too, knew that the odds of them ever seeing their lost members alive was slim and the odds of finding enough to burry were not much better.

Orcs were man-eaters. They were indiscriminant in what meat went into their pots. In his heart, Gimli feared _that_ was why they had taken Emily. With Saruman wanting the hobbits they could not have eaten them, but Emily . . . she was an extra. Something Saruman had neither asked for nor known about. They may have taken her so that they could have meat on the journey. It broke his heart to think of the poor lass being used in such a way. She may have looked like an Elf but she was tenacious and he admired her for it. With a sad laugh he wondered just how many times she had gotten back up after he knocked her down in Lothlórien and realized that he couldn't count them. It made him smile as he recalled the fire in her eyes as she glared up at him from the ground.

He was sure of one thing: if she was alive, she would be fine. That girl should have been transmuted into the body of a dwarf instead of an elf. He had met dwarves that were less stubborn and willful than she was. _If_ she had survived her time with the Orcs, she would be alright if given time to recover. She was a fighter. But even so, if she _did _survive as soon as she was healed up and could endure it, he intended to give her the lecture of her life on what being part of a _fellowship_ means. He knew that it was not really his place—Aragorn was their leader, after all—but in the time they had spent together in Lothlórien he had almost come to look on her as the daughter he would never have and so he felt that she needed a lesson in dwarvish common sense. _Especially_ if she had thought that it was a _good_ idea to walk into a group of Orcs, weaponless and armorless and expect it to end well.

So, despite the fact that they each had their own motives, the Fellowship decided that they would approach the camp of the Riders of Rohan to seek aid in whatever way they could acquire it—be it only news of the goings on in Rohan.

They were still a distance from the camp when their presence was detected. "Halt!" a sentry called holding a spear at them threateningly. "Who are you and what is your business in our camp?" He could think of no reason such a strange group would be traveling together, let alone thought the Riddermark. Two Men an Elf and a Dwarf. Never had he expected to see it. But he had been instructed to bring all who approached the camp to Éomer regardless of their race.

"Peace," Aragorn replied in the language of Rohan, thinking that hearing his own tongue would calm the Man. He was correct, the spear that had been poised to throw dipped slightly as the sentry looked at him in curiosity.

"How have you come to know our tongue?" the sentry demanded. He could not fathom how a man with such dark hair could have learned their language. It was clear that he was not of their people.

"I rode with Thengel years ago, but that is on no consequence just now," Aragorn said. "Tell me, who is your commander. I would like to speak with him."

"We are led by the Third Marshal of the Mark," the sentry replied. "I will not give you his name; that is his to disclose if he will. However I will take you to him if you and your companions will keep your hands clear from your weapons." Aragorn nodded and the sentry turned and began to lead them into the camp.

"Keep your hands were they can be seen to be free of weapons and follow him," Aragorn said to his companions. "We have been granted an audience with the Third Marshal of the Mark. I know naught of him."

"I do," Boromir said. "His name is Éomer, son of Éomund. He is Théoden King's nephew and a good and honest man. If it is within his power, he will aid us."

"Thank you, Boromir," Aragorn said with a small smile. "Those tidings bring me hope. Would your familiarity with him aid us in receiving more aid than my speaking their tongue will?"

"I am unsure," Boromir replied with a sigh. "While we are acquainted we are not friends but neither are we enemies. If he is able to assist us, it will matter little which of us speaks. The only exception to that would be Legolas. The people of this land are not accustomed to seeing Elves and have some distrust for them. He will not aid us in negotiations. How did you come to know their tongue?"

"That is a story for another time," the heir of Isildur replied, his eyes distant as he revisited old memories. "Perhaps I can be persuaded to tell is once we have recovered our lost members. It is a grand tale. And I remember well their distrust of outsiders and especially of their neighbors to the north. There were many superstitions related to the Golden Wood and to Elves in general. Even so, I will not leave him behind. If Éomer is as honest as you say, the presence of one Elf will not sway his decision against us if it was ever to be for us." None argued with his decision, even as the eyes of the Rohirrim began to be drawn to the strange group being led into their camp.

Eventually the sentry stopped before a fire where a blonde man was crouched and warming a meal. "Hail, Third Marshal of the Mark," the sentry said, causing the man to look up at him with the weariness of a man with too many things on his mind, "I bring people seeking an audience with you, my lord." Éomer smiled in response. He had known that her people would come with her, he just hadn't anticipated that it would be so soon. Elves were swifter than he had been led to believe. He felt his smile falter as he took in the group the sentry had brought. There was only one Elf in the group. This was not her rescue party. These were just travelers. A very strange group of travelers.

"Hail travelers," Éomer called. "Come, sit with me if you are weary and tell me what brings you to the Riddermark." They did as he bade and sat in a cluster on the opposite side of the fire. He was pleased to realize that he recognized one of the faces: Boromir, son of Denethor. He had feared for him when the horse he had been lent came back riderless, but it appeared that he was well. Even if his eyes were haunted with a pain that Éomer did not understand.

"I am pleased to see you again, Boromir. I had feared that you had fallen," the Third Marshal said warmly. "I am glad to see that my fears were unfounded. But how have you come again to Rohan and in such strange company." Boromir looked at Aragorn, trying to ask wordlessly if he should reply of if Aragorn would prefer to do it. At the Ranger's nod, Boromir sighed.

"It is quite a tale, Éomer. And one that I have not the time to tell in full," the Gondorian replied. "My companions and I are hunting an Orc pack that took three of our company. This is the third day since they were captured near the Falls of Rauros and—"

"You have made such a trek on foot in three days?" Éomer breathed. What they were proposing was nearly impossible. "You must have run through the night to accomplish such a thing!"

"Not the entire night, no," Boromir replied sadly. "But we have run for two days with very little rest and we are weary and beginning to despair for the fate of our companions. I do not have to tell you that Orcs are not kind when they take prisoners."

"You do not," Éomer agreed. "It is a lesson that we have learned well as of late. These companions you speak of, were they Men . . . or . . ." he gestured vaguely at Legolas and Gimli to show what he was unable to ask.

"They were not," Boromir replied his heart clenching as he had to explain to another that Emily and the hobbits had been taken from them. He was ashamed of the part that he had played it in, and to be forced to tell Éomer was almost more than he could bear.

"One was a female E—" Boromir began only to be cut off before he could finish the last word of his sentence.

"Bring the woman that was rescued from the Uruks," Éomer instructed one of his men standing nearby. Turning back to the fellowship, he said, "I apologize for that, Boromir. However my men do not know what you were about to say. I have kept it from them. I did not want to cause a panic. I am not sure how far our healer has gotten in treating the wounds she sustained from the Uruks, however, if she is a member of your company, I will gladly give her to you to tend instead."

"We would greatly appreciate that," Aragorn replied, his gratitude and relief present in his words and face. "She and two hobbits were the cause of our journey across your lands. It will lighten our hearts immensely to see them alive and well."

"Hobbits?" Éomer asked confusion in his tone. It was a strange word to him. The closest that he knew was one from his own tongue: _Holbytlan_. But that could not be of what they spoke for they were nothing by children's tails. Not true beings that could be taken and captured.

"Halflings," Boromir said a smile on his face for the first time in days. Their companions had survived. "Two of them. They are about the size of a child, but much rounder than any child I have yet to see."

"Aye," Gimli agreed. "They drink and smoke more than any child I have ever seen as well. Even the most precocious dwarfling cannot compare to their excesses."

Éomer's confusion only deepened these three spoke as though they had met and traveled with two of the _Holbytlan_. "There was naught like that there," he replied. "Only the young woman and the Uruks."

"Are you certain?" Aragorn asked, joining Éomer in confusion. "The last we knew of them, they had been captured and were being taken to Isengard by the Orcs."

"Aye," Eomer replied. "I am certain. If they were ever with the Uruks I do not know what became of them." They were all dismayed at the news. They had been so sure that the hobbits would be with Emily. To discover that they had not been rescued. It devastated them.

Legolas smiled gently at Aragorn and placed a calming hand on his arm. "This mystery will be easily solved. We will simply ask Emily what became of the hobbits when she joins us," he said softly in the common tongue to not arouse suspicion from the Riders that were already eyeing him warily.

Éomer shifted uncomfortably at his words. When he spoke, the words were gentle and his eyes were kind, "Before they return I should warn you. As you know, Urks are not kind to their prisoners when they take them. Your companion is gravely injured, and was in such a state when we found her. We debated whether it would be better for us to treat her injuries here or to send her to a healer and decided for the former. We had assumed that a rescue party would be coming and decided to wait here for them."

Everyone felt their hearts drop at his pronouncement. Even without knowing how extensive her injuries were, most of the group felt somewhat responsible for her fate.

Aragorn felt that he should have prevented it. If he had just planned a bit better, perhaps they would never have been separated and she would not have had the chance to be captured. Even if it was no longer a final request, he was trying to honor Emily's wish that he not blame Boromir for what had come to pass. Though a part of his mind could not help but wonder how things would have changed had Boromir not been tempted by the Ring.

Gimli was unsure what he could have done differently, but knew that there had to have been something. Despite his thoughts on her tenacity, he hated the idea of her being in pain even for a short time. He had no desire to see what damage the Orcs had wrought on her flesh. For the first time, he wished that he had studied the healing arts a bit better as a lad. He would be of little use here.

Legolas felt that he should have know that something was troubling her and watched her more closely, rather than just assume that she would tell him in time. While he knew that her choices were no fault of his own, he wished that she would have come to him rather than make them as she had.

Boromir, understandably, felt guilty because if she had not been attempting to prevent his death she would not have been captured to begin with. Again the thought came that any injury she had incurred from her capture was his fault as sure as if he had been the one to deliver it and it made his heart ache within his breast.

They didn't have long for self-flagellation however, since almost as soon as Éomer had ceased speaking, his man returned carrying another figure and giving the distinct impression that he was afraid he was going to break what he was carrying. As they neared, Aragorn felt Legolas tense beside him, and looked at the Elf, surprised to see the fury that was written across his face.

Unsure what had caused the anger in the normally calm Elf; Aragorn looked at Emily with a more careful eye. She had a livid bruise on one side of her face and around her neck, her feet were bleeding, and there were bruises littering her skin but other than that he could see no obvious signs of injury. From what he knew of Urk-Elf interactions, her injuries were relatively mild. He could not see what would invoke the fury of the normally stoic Elf. He had not long to wait.

Before he could ask what the trouble was, Legolas had turned to Éomer and said in a voice that was practically a hiss, "What cause had you to bind her hands and feet? She is but a female, and an injured one at that. Surely there was no cause to do so in a camp full of men."

At his words, Aragorn looked once more and wondered how he had managed to miss the heavy iron manacles that circled both her wrists and ankles. He felt anger rise within him that the distrust the people of Rohan had for Elves would lead them to bind an unconscious Elleth, before he remembered that the Riders carried no such manacles. When they needed to take a prisoner, they used rope.

He was about to come to their defense, when Éomer indignantly replied, "We did nothing of the sort! She was bound when we attacked the Uruks, and we were able to locate neither the key nor the mechanism to free her."

The man who had brought her to them shifted uncomfortably at the tension in the air and looked toward the company to see who he should hand her off to. After a brief glance at Boromir, who could not even bring himself to look at her, Legolas stood and closed the distance between the remainder of the fellowship and the Man of Rohan. He glanced down at Emily, who appeared to be sleeping fitfully in the Man's arms, and brushed her tangled hair away from her face gently before taking her from him.

The Rider watched Legolas approach him warily. He was surprised at the emotion in the Elf's eyes as he looked at the young women he had helped rescue. He had always heard that they were cold towards the other races but the way he looked at her was warm, tender, and nearly paternal. He was surprised yet again as her hair was moved and revealed the pointed tip of her ear. He handed her to the elf shocked to realize that he had not only seen a female Elf but had touched one. It troubled him.

Even though he knew the truth, he felt that he had to ask. "She is an Elf?" He breathed, looking at Éomer in shock that he had been told to touch an Elf without warning. Her blood was on his hands, would it do anything to him?

"Does this surprise you?" Aragorn asked, scorn present in his tone. He knew of the "relationship" between Elves and the Men of Rohan. "Would it have changed your aid of her had you have known?"

"No, Sir," the Man replied swiftly. "It is just that I have never seen a she-elf before. Nor an Elf for that matter, until today. I half believed them to be myth."

"They are not myth," Aragorn said in a slightly kinder tone. "No more so than Dwarves, Goblins or Hobbits. Now you have seen both a Dwarf and Elves and before this is all done I hope that you have the opportunity to see at least two hobbits."

Their conversation was broken up by Legolas who, upon returning to his place between Aragorn and Gimli and reclaiming his seat, had shifted Emily into a more comfortable position on his lap only to discover blood on his hand. He had felt the tackiness of it when he had taken her, but the warm red liquid on his fingers was not that of dried or drying blood. She was still bleeding.

"Aragorn," he called softly, turning his hand so that the Ranger could see the red liquid coating his hand. Legolas was a bit shocked at the sight. He had seen blood in his time, but most of it had been the black blood of Orcs. And never had he seen blood on his hands that had come from a woman, let alone a member of his race.

"I apologize for ending the conversation abruptly," Aragorn said to the man, "but I need to see to my companion. I am sure that you have duties you must return to as well. The delay you took in staying to return her to us was more than I could have asked of you and I thank you for it."

"Aye," Eomer said, rising to his feet. "We must be off. We have three horses with no riders that we can leave you to aid in your quest for your other lost friends, and you are welcome to the use of this campsite. But do not hold to hope that your friends live, for hope is naught but a curse here. Good luck to you. There is only one thing that I ask of you in return."

"What might that be?" Aragorn asked with some reserve.

"It is against the laws of our lands to allow strangers to wander freely," Éomer replied. "Boromir is not unknown to us and it is due to him that I do so now, however I must ask that once your quest has reached its end you return the horses to Edoras and explain your presence to my uncle."

"That is a fair arrangement," Aragorn said with a small smile. "We will seek our friends and then we will return to Edoras." At this promise, Éomer nodded to Aragorn and Boromir before he walked away.

Moments later a man walked up leading three horses. Boromir took the horses from the man and thanked him for them as Aragorn inspected them. He bowed and turned to go but was stopped by Legolas.

"Wait," the elf said, not standing to join them for fear of jostling Emily. "If you have any need for the tack on one of the horses, I will not use it and would hate for it to go to waste."

The man looked at him like he was mad but nodded and said they were in need of a new saddle and took both it and bridle from one of the horses before returning the way he had come. After this it did not take long for the Riders of Rohan to break camp and ride off, leaving the remainder of the fellowship sitting around the remains of a fire and trying to decide what their next step would be.

They were faced with a dilemma. While they needed to continue the search for Merry and Pippin, they also needed to tend to Emily. While the first was a pressing matter, they felt that the second was perhaps more urgent. Aragorn sighed as he thought it through and hoped that he wasn't making the wrong decision yet again.

"Legolas," he said, his voice showing his struggle, "I am going in search of herbs. While I am gone, take inventory of her injuries." He sighed and then continued, "Also, attempt to free her. I will return as soon as I may."

The other two assumed that the instructions applied to them as well, so with heavy hearts they set to the task of assessing Emily, with all efforts made to preserve her dignity. Boromir, however, was still riddled with guilt over his part in her suffering and rather than inspecting her person, set himself to the task of figuring out how to unshackle her. It was with grim pleasure that he recognized the locking mechanism as one that was used in Gondor, though he hated to think how the Uruks had come to be in possession of them.

His satisfaction was short lived. Once he had freed her, he was confronted by the raw skin below. It was then that he noticed her hands were bruised and held in an awkward half-closed position with knots where there ought not be any. "They broke her hands," he said to no one in particular, his disgust coloring his words and causing him to feel nauseous.

The three males shared a look that plainly said the Urks were lucky to be dead, because no matter what the Riders had done to them, their death had been quick compared to the vengeance they would have enacted for their companion.

**ooOO88OOoo**

**There we are all. A new chapter! Sorry about the wait. My laptop screen died and I've been using the TV when there's no one else using it. Good news is that I should have a new computer soon. I ordered one and it should get here this week! **

**Also on the good news side, there are already nearly 2K words for the next chapter (I looked down and realized that the chapter was over 8K words and not an end in sight so I went back and cut it :) I hope you don't mind too much)**

**As always, thank you to everyone who took the time to read this chapter or to add it to your alerts or favorites.**

**And a special thank you to those of you who reviewed. Y'all really make my day!**

**NyanWolfy:**** Thank you! and don't worry, things will be looking up for her shortly :)**

**Intoxicatedasphyxiation:**** So, did Eomer's reaction live up to your expectations? I hope so :)**

**Kilataia:**** That it was :) Did you like their decision?**

**Angel Bells:**** I'm glad that I could win back your love and affection ;) I'm also glad that you enjoyed it and hope that you liked the angle I took on what the Rohirrim did with her :) We will get to see quite a bit more of the guilt-ridden Boromir and if it will fit in the next one, even a small confrontation scene between him and Emily :) I hope that this one was worth the wait!**

**UntilNeverDawns:**** Thank you! And amen to that! Eomer really saved the day on this one :) and I am going to TRY to get the Boromir/Emily actually reunion in the next chapter. That was going to be the cut point for this one but it was getting too long. I will do many things, putting out a 10K chapter is not one of them ;) I hope that you liked the way I decided to handle the Emily dilemma for the Riders :)**

**SSJKarigan:**** Trust me, I know. It was very rough to write as well. Nearly broke my heart to put her (and me and you) though all that pain. And Boromir will feature prominently once more since now he has an injured Emily to actually angst over . . . he's not going to be kind to himself about it either. And I'm glad that you liked it. Everyone was begging for more of him and I was trying to put off writing more of the Uruks so everyone won with that one ;) And what did you think of their reaction?**

**KrystalSky:**** Thank you!**

**Baroque:**** Thank you so much! I've tried to make it plausible even if it isn't ****quite**** believable. And I'm really glad that you like Emily. I was trying to make her as real as possible and I'm glad that you like the pacing. That is the one thing that worries me the most. I occasionally worry that it bogs, but no one has told me so yet so I'm assuming that people are enjoying it :) And the last few chapters have broken my heart to write :'( Good news is that things are about to begin to look up for everyone :) If not the next one, things will perk back up here in a bit . . . **

**LOTRfan:**** I'm glad that it was worth it. And I'm glad you like them since they seem to be the rule rather than the exception for this story :/ And thank you! I'm glad that you like being surprised by outcomes :) And it is. As much as that hurt me to write . . . they wouldn't ignore her. **

**19seventythree:**** Thank you! And I'm glad that you do because that seems to be where this story is going. They just keep getting longer :/ I hope that you like the way I decided to do it. I prefer to show rather than tell and didn't want to have to explain everything that happened in dialogue . . . so Rohirim POV! **

**Estelle Lumene:**** Yep, Eomer :) And I assure you that HE wasn't thanking me for putting him in that position ;)**

**DepthsOfMySubconsciousness: ****Thank you! I'm sorry that I nearly made you cry, but don't worry, things will get better, I promise :)**

**Guest:**** That she is. I hope that they live up to your expectations :)**

**Well, that's all for now folks! I hope you enjoyed it and would love to hear what you thought (even if you hated it) so please leave me a review if you have time and/or feel so inclined.**

**Stickdonkeys**


	25. Wounds, Conversations and Tears

Emily woke slowly and painfully. She knew that she wasn't dead, death couldn't possibly hurt this much, but she wasn't sure where she was. The last thing she remembered clearly was Merry and Pippin fleeing into the woods as someone, who she assumed were the Riders of Rohan, attacked the Uruks. Then a beating . . . From there she could remember snatches of conversation, most in a language she didn't understand, but nothing concrete had managed to break through her pain-filled haze.

She seemed to remember hearing the voices of the fellowship, but she may have just dreamed that. She had dreamt of rescue before. A sharp pain in her back caused her to jerk slightly and to fully awaken for the first time in who knew how long.

The first thing she registered was the sound of Aragorn's voice. It was quiet, but steady and filled with some emotion that she couldn't place. "Hold her still, Leoglas," he said. "I do not wish to cause more damage, but I must remove some of the excess flesh to minimize the scarring."

Aragorn and Legolas. That meant that the others had to be here too! If she was successful, that is. She slowly blinked her eyes open, the brightness of the day causing her to flinch again. Once her eyes adjusted to the light, she saw Gimli and Boromir sitting a little ways away. Boromir was showing Gimli the mechanism behind the handcuffs those damned Urks had put on her.

Both were so absorbed in what they were doing, in an effort to ignore what was going on to their left, that they did not immediately notice her eyes on them.

"Quite simple really," she heard Boromir explain. "When you push these two pins here, it allows this second pin to move and the last lever to slide. It prevents a guard from needing to carry a myriad of keys but, as the mechanism requires two hands to operate, it also prevents the one in the manacles from freeing himself, even if he is aware of how it is done."

"Too bad I didn't know that, or I could have had one of the hobbits do it," Emily said with a wry laugh that turned into a grunt of pain. She was surprised at the hoarseness of her own voice but dismissed it. Screaming would do that to a person.

The Man and the Dwarf looked up at her words and she saw multiple emotions flash across their faces in the span of a few seconds, but she hadn't spent enough time around Dwarves to be able to track all of them as they flickered across. She was, however, able to decipher the emotion he landed on: relief.

Boromir was easier for her; she had a lot more practice with human men. He started with relief, then joy, then progressed to pity and finally to guilt. "You never should have been placed in that position to begin with," he finally said, refusing to meet her eyes. "It should have been me in your stead."

She drew breath to answer, but released it in a hiss as Aragorn pressed something to the wounds on her back.

"My apologies," he said sincerely, "however I must clean these wounds if they are to heal. I regret the pain I will cause you in doing so." Though she couldn't see his face she heard the pain in his words and wondered just how much more it was going to hurt before he was finished.

She turned her head a little and nodded in acknowledgement that she had heard him and then continued her conversation with Boromir. "If you would have been there instead of me," she replied, her voice harsher than she meant because of the pain, "you would be dead." She paused to catch her breath then continued, "They only kept me alive because they figured that Sauroman would like to "talk with" a female Elf." She attempted to make air quotes around the words, but stopped with a gasp of pain as her broken hands protested the movement.

Aragorn sighed. He knew that he should have started by fixing her hands, but he had hoped that she would remain unconscious until he was done. _Perhaps Éomer was correct in saying that hope is useless in these lands,_ he thought bitterly. He knew that he was going to have to re-break the bones and reset them properly. He was also aware that it was going to be extremely painful, but it had to be done. He caught Legolas' eye, and though to any one unacquainted with the ways of Elves he would appear calm, Aragorn could tell by the set of his jaw and the steel in his eyes that he was furious, though with whom the Ranger could not tell. He sincerely hoped that it was the Uruks who had done this that his anger was directed at. The last thing the fellowship needed was strife from within.

"Emily," Legolas asked, his voice betraying none of his rage, "how did you sustain these injuries?"

"Which ones?" she replied with a snort of derision that turned into a moan of pain. "Well, let's see," she started again, her breath coming in short gasps as she tried not to aggravate her injuries, "if we start from the beginning . . . I . . . well, my feet are torn up since I was _stupid_ enough to hide knives down my boots. Which, of course, the Uruks checked and confiscated, leaving me shoeless. Actually stupidity factored into all of them," she said with a small painful laugh.

"I fail to see the humor in this situation," he replied harshly raising an eyebrow at the idea that she could, though he knew that she couldn't see it with the way she was held in his lap.

"Sorry," she apologized before continuing her catalogue. "The first layer of the bruise on my face happened when I tried to escape during one of our brief rest-stops. Which is also when they decided to cuff me," she paused then said with a small laugh that was more a sob, "I don't even know why I tried to escape. See, stupidity at its finest. That was also when I was warned by the leader of the Uruks that I could either behave or die."

"I do not mean to offend you," Legolas asked, "but if you took his advice, how did you sustain the remaining injuries?"

"That's just it," she answered. "I didn't." She thought quickly about how to explain what had come next. She _had_ to explain how her hands had been broken but she didn't want to tell them what had truly happened. She didn't want them to know that she had been threatened with rape. It was too horrific to share. They did not need to know that.

"I planned another escape attempt," she lied deciding that them thinking she was stupid was better than them knowing the truth. "I stole a knife from the Uruk next to me, stabbing him with it before attempting to take out the leader, who was holding my leash. I only managed to wound him. In retaliation, he felt that it was only fair that since I broke his skin, he should make sure I couldn't do it again and broke my hands."

"How long ago was that?" Aragorn cut in. While he doubted that she had told them the truth, he was not going to argue with her. The truth would come out eventually and he was not sure that he wanted to know what had truly happened at any rate to make her stab an Uruk. Though he, like Gimli and Boromir had been silent, they had been hanging on her every word, wondering if she would mention what had happened to the hobbits.

"How many days has it been since the Riders destroyed the Uruks?" she asked in return.

"Not yet one," he replied. "It is just after dawn since the night they killed them."

"Then about a day," she answered. He felt himself sigh in relief. In that amount of time even the accelerated healing of the Elves would not have set them solidly. It would make what he had to do that much easier.

She didn't seem like she was going to continue, so Legolas prodded for the rest of the information. "What of the remaining wounds?" he asked.

"Those," she said, beginning to cry. "I got those protecting Pippin and Merry's retreat. When the Riders cornered the Uruks at Fangorn Forest, the leader threw my chain around a tree branch so that I could serve as a deterrent to the attack. Merry and Pippin tried to free me but they couldn't do it. They fled to the forest and . . . well, the fact that they were missing was noticed." She said no more but she didn't need to. The wounds spoke for themselves. The Uruks had questioned her about the whereabouts of the hobbits and resorted to torture when she wouldn't give them up.

"Emily," Gimli asked gently, or as gently as the usually gruff dwarf could, "Do you know what happened to the hobbits?"

"The last I saw of them, they had escaped the battle and run into Fangorn Forest, where they were supposed to go," she replied with a sad smile. "Don't worry, so far everything has gone _mostly_ according to plan, so they should be fine."

"Why did they abandon you?" Boromir asked, looking at her for the first time since she admonished him, his tone edging towards anger. "They did not know that you were safe. In fact, they had to have known that leaving without you would place you in danger. Why did they do such a thing?"

"I told them to," she replied in a tone that allowed for no argument. "Do you honestly think that I could have run into the forest with them even if they could have gotten me loose from the tree? No. I knew it too. Pippin argued with me about it and it was only once I convinced Merry that they left. There was no other choice. And they needed to go there, more than I needed them to stay with me."

"Why was it so important that they go there?" Gimli asked. "Fangorn Forest has a dire reputation even as far as the Lonely Mountain."

"It was important because—" Emily cut off in a gagging sound that had both Aragorn and Legolas panicking that something else was wrong. As Legolas' hands began gently feeling her bruised throat for blockage externally, she waved away his hand and said, "I'm fine, really. Damned wizard. Apparently I can't tell you that. Just know that what they are doing is crucial to the success of this war."

Those were the last words that were exchanged for a time as Aragorn continued his treatment of the wounds on her back and the others sat in silence and wondered what could have been so important in the forest that Emily would be willing to give her life to insure that Merry and Pippin reached it. Eventually Aragorn finished cleaning and binding the wounds from her beating and move to care for the cuts on her feet. He knew that it was weak of him to tend to such small hurts before he reset her hands but he reasoned that the risk of infection was higher in the open wounds on her feet and that he would be better served to treat them first. Once that was done as well, he searched desperately for something else that he could treat. He had no desire to cause her yet more pain.

"Emily, when you take a deep breath does anything feel like it is rubbing together in your chest?" he asked both hoping—for his sake—that the answer was yes and praying—for hers—that it was no.

"Are you asking me if I have any broken ribs?" she countered a small smile on her face. "I don't think so. They ache but there's no grating. Not that I've ever broken anything . . . before." Her voice trailed off there at the end as she thought of all the things that had never happened before she was captured.

"That is good news," Aragorn replied with a sigh. "I am so sorry for what I have to do now. I only hope that you can remember that I do not cause you pain because I desire to do so."

"You're going to reset my hands, aren't you?" she asked, fear creeping into her voice. She remembered the pain of the breaks and knew that this would be little better. He only swallowed and nodded. He couldn't find the words to tell her that he was going to do it. She nodded, tears beginning to pool in her eyes.

"Do it," she whispered. "It has to be done so just do it. They can't stay like this."

"They cannot," Aragorn agreed. "Boromir," he said, walking toward the other man with a grim expression. His next question was a quiet on. Not meant for Emily's ears. "Do you know how to set bones?"

"I do," the Gondorian replied. "Why do you ask? Surely you do not intend for me to—"

"It will be kinder if we set them both at the same time," Aragorn cut him off. "Then the pain of the setting will not be drawn out."

"But it will be more intense," Boromir argued. "If we do that she will likely lose consciousness again."

"Precisely," the heir of Isildur replied. "If she is unconscious it will cause her less pain overall. It is much kinder this way. If I was not worried about doing her further injury I would have rendered her unconscious just after she woke." Boromir debated it with himself, his desire to save Emily pain warring with his desire not to cause her pain at all. Eventually the first desire won out and he stood with a deep sigh to assist Aragorn. Emily looked at them both with fear in her eyes as she realized what they intended.

"At the same time?" she breathed, Boromir nodded sadly and she closed her eyes in response. She had no desire to see pain coming. When she felt a hand close around her fingers it was not just pain that made her try to pull back. The memory of the last time someone had grabbed her fingers flared to startling life and panic flooded her veins. Her eyes flew open as she needed to reassure herself that it was her friends, and not an Uruk, that held her hands. But friend or foe was soon irrelevant as once more the sound of her own screams echoed in her ears as the bones were snapped free in preparation to be pulled back into place. She felt darkness reaching for her and instead of fighting against it she gladly embraced it as an escape from the pain.

All of them were relieved when the darkness claimed her yet again. Even the sight of her unconscious face was better than the screaming had been. Thankfully she hadn't begged them to stop. They weren't sure what they would have done had she begged. It wasn't as if they _could_ stop, after all.

Once the bones were back where they were supposed to be, they bound them flat with some of the stiff stalks of grass from the plains around them for support. There was nothing more that they could do for her other than allow her body to heal the hurts she had sustained. With this in mind they turned their minds to other thing: searching Fangorn Forest for the hobbits. Despite Emily's assurances that they needed to go there, they were reluctant to abandon them to the dark forest. Too many rumors surrounded the place for them to leave the hobbits there in good conscience without at least searching for them first.

This presented yet another quandary. There were five of them and only three horses. Four of them would have to double up. The question was who would ride with whom. Gimli and Legolas quickly agreed to ride together, after Legolas' assurance that Gimli would not fall from the horse without a saddle. That just left the question of who Emily would ride with.

Aragorn knew that it would do Boromir good to have a chance to be near her and to care for her as a way of assuaging his guilt over her capture. The only trouble that he could see was how to convince the Man of the same. There was only one angle that he felt that he could try.

"Boromir," he said suddenly, his tone brooking no argument, "Emily needs to ride with you." The Man opened his mouth to protest the impropriety of such a thing since his intrest in her had been made known but Aragorn shook his head and continued. "There is no other option," he said. "I may have to dismount to check for sign of the hobbits. It will not do to continually shift her. It would be better for her to remain on horseback as long as possible. Legolas already has a riding partner. That leaves you. She _must_ ride with you." Even though Boromir disagreed with Aragorn's final statement, he could not fault the Ranger's logic. Aragorn was the best tracker in the group, it would not do to have him burdened with Emily and it would also not due to have her passed between them when Aragorn needed to dismount. With a sad nod, Boromir climbed into the saddle.

"Pass her to me," he sighed resignedly, leaning down to carefully take her from Aragorn and Legolas as they lifted her into the saddle in front of him. She moaned as she was transferred and the sound hit him like a blow to the stomach.

"Aragorn," he breathed, "are you certain that she should be riding with us? I fear that—"

"As do I, my friend," Aragorn replied. "However I fear what will become of us if we divide ourselves. Either way carries a risk. I feel that the risk to Emily of keeping her with us is less than the risk to us all if we divide the fellowship any further." Again, Boromir could not argue the logic of Aragorn's words and turned his attention instead to trying to keep his mount at the smoothest gait it is capable of to minimize her discomfort as they made their way to Fangorn Forest.

**ooOO88OOoo**

It did not take them long to reach the eves of the forest or to locate the site of the battle. The ground was still coated in the black blood of the Orcs and the piles where they had burned the bodies were still smoldering. They did not make camp at the site of the battle itself but rather made camp out of sight of the grizzly place. Once they had selected a site Aragorn was faced with a difficult decision: he now had to decide how to divide the fellowship. Even though he was loathe to do so there was now no other option. Emily could not go with them into Fangorn and she could not stay alone. At least one of them needed to stay with her and the horses. He was trying to decide which of them should stay when Boromir made the decision for him.

"I will stay," Boromir said as if he had heard their leader's thoughts. "I will remain here with the horses and Emily. I will guard them both with my life." He offered because even though being near her pained him and he knew that any of the others could protect her, he saw how it pained them to see her as well.  
None of the others deserved the pain. It was his fault, after all. He would endure it for them. For her.

"We will return," Aragorn said with a nod before gesturing with his head towards the site of the battle and leading Gimli and Legolas away from camp. Boromir settled back to the ground next to where Emily lay with a sigh. She seemed peaceful in sleep, despite the bruises that marred her skin. With a shaking hand he reached out to move her hair back from her face, pulling it rapidly back when she moaned at his touch.

He looked at her sadly as she slept. There had been nothing that he could do to spare her from what had happened after she had been capture. He had caught her lie that morning as well. He knew what it was that she had been reluctant to tell them. They had broken her hands because she tried to resist when they raped her. It broke his heart to think of the fear she must have felt. He also knew that she had concealed it for fear that he would cast her aside, but he would not. If she would still have him, he would not hold what had been done to her for his sake against her. Even if . . . even if the truth of what had happened to her in captivity became apparent. He would stand by her until such a time as they could be rid of the proof.

There was nothing that he could do for her about that particular trauma but he could try to help her feel more normal. With gentle hands he removed the strange band that held her braid. He looked at it for a moment in confusion. It was . . . odd. It stretched like nothing that he had ever seen before and seemed to be welded like iron. With a sigh he set it aside and began the task of undoing the matted braid. He was so focused on the task, untangling the knots with gentle fingers, that he didn't notice when she woke.

He hadn't noticed that he was humming quietly as he worked. That was what had allowed her to remain still when she woke and realized that someone had their fingers in her hair. When she heard his voice she knew that rescue had not been a dream. She waited to speak until he had finished, not wanting him to stop in the middle and leave her hair unbound and knowing that it was a very real possibility if she startled him. She had seen his face when she awoke.

When she heard the sound of the elastic snapping back into place and his quiet curse she smiled. "Thank you," she whispered turning her head to look at him. He felt embarrassment flood through him that she had been awake. And that she could look at him with such soft eyes even after what had happened.

"You are most welcome," he replied. "I know that I should have asked permission before touching you in such a way however . . . "

"It's fine," she said. "I would have asked if I thought that you would do it if no one had by the time I woke up. I . . . I know that it's really a little thing in the grand scheme of things but . . . it helps. Thank you."

He didn't reply. It felt wrong to him for them to try to talk as though nothing had happened. As if she hadn't been captured, tortured, _violated_ . . . as if it wasn't his fault. Suddenly he had to know why she had done it. Legolas had given him one explanation but he needed to hear it from her own lips.

"Why?" Brormir asked suddenly, looking at Emily levelly. His voice was choked with emotion and he seemed to be near ready to cry. At first she had intended to explain why having her hair rearranged helped but then she processed his tone and realized that was not what he was asking about.

"What do you mean?" Emily asked. She though that she knew what he wanted to know but wanted clarification before she started bringing up things that neither of them really wanted to talk about. She wanted to forget what had happened to her, not to keep having to discuss it.

"Why did you do it?" Boromir asked again. "What possessed you to attempt to save my life through offering your own? Did you think that I would . . . why?"

She sighed before attempting to take a deep breath that ended in a wince as her injuries protested the movement. She saw him finch at the wince. "It's not your fault," she said with a sad smile.

"I disagree," he replied looking away from her again. "If you had not been attempting to keep me alive you would not have been injured. For this reason I am at fault for your injuries as much as if I had inflicted them myself."

"You're wrong," she whispered fighting the urge to reach out and place a hand on his arm only because she knew how much it would hurt. "I made the choice to do it. No one is at fault but me and the Uruks. But mostly me. If I would have been smarter, I would have given y'all the note earlier rather than going off on my own. Or I would have tried to draw less attention to myself. If I had . . ." she trailed off with tears beginning to form in her eyes as memories of what had happened surfaced once more.

"You have yet to explain why you chose to do it," Boromir said, his tone making it clear that he felt there was more than enough blame to go around and that she was leaving out a good deal of it. His eyes were boring into her and it was Emily's turn to look away. She couldn't stand the intensity of the anger in his gaze, even if it wasn't directed at her. She had seen too many angry eyes to be able to endure them gladly.

"I don't know," she finally said, looking at the stream they were sitting beside rather than at him. "I can't explain why I did it." She paused and looked back at him and met his eyes before she continued. "I just couldn't let you die. Not if I could stop it. I _couldn't _sit by and let it happen."

"Why could you not," he asked sadly. "I do not know how things are where you come from but in this world it is _my_ responsibility to care for you. _I_ should have been the one to risk my life for your safety, not the way it occurred. I should have—"

"Died?" She offered sarcastically. "'Cause that's what would have happened. And where I come from people who are in love care for each other. Or at least that's how it's _supposed _to be." She had to pause to catch her breath before she could continue but he waited, seeing from the set of her jaw that she was not yet done.

"_You_ did not ask me to do it for you," she continued. "You didn't hide behind me and tell them 'here! Take her instead.' _I_ chose to do it. _They_ chose to beat me and _you_ are here to help me pick up the pieces. And you can either sit there and angst over it or you can forgive yourself for it and help me. What do you intend to do?"

"I . . . I do not deserve you," he said finally with a wry smile.

"Probably not," she agreed with a grin. "But you have me anyway. Speaking of . . . where are our chaperones? What with me being unconscious I'm shocked and appalled that they left us alone. What about my honor?" She had been joking but she felt her stomach twist uncomfortably as his smile fell away and his eyes took on the haunted look that they had had moments before.

"Oh," she breathed as she realized why they had not needed chaperones. The fellowship believed that she had no honor that needed protecting any more. They believed that it had been taken from her.

"Boromir, I—" She said, her tone apologetic before he cut her off.

"Do not trouble yourself with such explanations, Emily," he said gently, placing a hand on her arm and looking at her with soft grey eyes. "If you wish to talk about what occurred while you were a captive I will listen but you owe me no apologies or explanations until you truly wish to give them. Much as you hold me blameless in what happened to you, I hold you faultless in anything that may have been forced on you. Do you understand? _Nothing_ that happened to you in the camp of the Uruks was your fault, Emily. No matter _what_ comes of it." He looked at her levelly as he said the last part and she felt tears fill her eyes. Even if she had been spared _that_ horror it touched her to know that he would have still loved her had she have been forced to endure it. Even if . . . she shuddered at the thought of being forced to carry a half-Uruk child to term only to . . . Even though it was not a fate that she was at risk for, it could have been.

Suddenly she was overwhelmed by the sheer good luck she had actually been blessed with. True, she had been beaten and brutalized but she was alive and there were always fates worse than death. Fates that she had escaped. As that realization sank in, she felt a sob of relief rise up her throat and she wept. At the first sign of tears Boromir was there, his fingers on the back of her head, tangled in the braid he had just plaited as he sought to comfort her without aggravating her injuries.

"Hush," he whispered gently into the top of her head as she rested it on his shoulder. "You are safe and the monsters that did this to you are dead. Hush now." Despite his kind words, it was some time before she stopped sobbing and then it was only because she had fallen asleep once more. Rather than lay her back on the ground, he leaned back against the pile of packs and cradled her gently against him before slipping into the first restful sleep he had had since she and the hobbits had been taken.

**ooOO88OOoo**

**Here we are all, a new chapter. Thanks to popular request, you received a very large chunk of Emily/Boromir goodness this time around :) I hope that you enjoyed it!**

**As always, thank you to everyone who took the time to read this chapter or to add it to your alerts or favorites.**

**And a special thank you to those of you who reviewed. Y'all really make my day!**

**UntilNeverDawns:**** Thank you so much! And it will :/ poor dear. I hope that you enjoy the way I handle it!**

**KrystalSky:**** Yep :) a rescue. Glad that you enjoyed it!**

**Katia0203:**** I'm glad that you are still pleased to see new chapters! And if you don't mind, can you tell me where it drug the most? I will go back and see what I can do to adjust it to make it less cumbersome. Thank you for telling me that it had issues!**

**19seventythree:**** Thank you! And there were more Emily/Boromir bits in this one and more to come ;) I hope that you enjoyed it!**

**Baroque:**** Amen to that! And thank you so much! And you're right. Despite his fine words here, he will still feel guilty for quite some time. It'll just be a bit more subtle. And the better she gets the more it will fade . . . until later events will bring it back to the surface with a vengeance. And I agree! Sad pandas are not particularly hot and Boromir is no real exception :/**

**Kilataia:**** I'm glad! And poor Boromir indeed! And both! Both is good ;)**

**Estelle Lumene:**** Yep . . . a sad one :( and you're right. No one is going to ask because they don't really want to know. But with all the tiptoeing around it, it shouldn't pose too much of a problem :) And thank you so much! I was trying to keep their minds and speech patterns slightly different. I'm glad that it worked! And thank you for your wish of luck! I now have a new one so things should be back on track!**

**Padme4000:**** I'm glad that you got around to it! I worried that I lost you with the dark turn it took. (even light non-con is enough to turn some people away and with good reason) and thank you! That was very hard for me to write and I'm glad that it at least served some purpose even if that was to boost my ego through your kind words :) And I'm glad that you loved the way that I handled the characters! I was a bit worried (especially with Eomer . . . he is a bit of a favorite and I was worried that people wouldn't like me having him grudgingly save her for political reasons) **

**Lira-leigh54:**** Thank you! I'm glad that you loved the interactions and Gimli's little paternal streak. . . I almost pity Boromir. Emily has 3 surrogate fathers . . . poor Man. So how did you like Emily's little common sense chat with Boromir?**

**Angel Bells: ****Thank you! I'm glad that you loved it all! I thought that the Boromir/Eomer relationship would be an interesting one to explore and am glad that you liked my take on it! And there is more than enough guilt for them all to share and they all need to do their part :) And yeah . . . Gimli may get more than he bargains for ;). So what did you think of their reunion?**

**Well, that's all for now folks! I hope you enjoyed it and would love to hear what you thought (even if you hated it) so please leave me a review if you have time and/or feel so inclined.**

**Stickdonkeys**


	26. Nightmares, Offers and Crossed Lines

Boromir and Emily were still in the same position when Aragorn and the others returned from the forest. Aragorn took in the sight of her sleeping peacefully draped across the equally peaceful Boromir before he heaved a deep sigh and took a step forward to separate them. He had only taken a step forward when he was stopped by a gentle, yet insistent, hand on his arm. He turned to see Legolas standing there, looking at him with sad eyes.

"Leave them be," Legolas said with a sigh, slipping into Elvish once more. "They both need the rest and they are doing no harm."

"I . . . it is improper. I should not have even allowed them to ride together or to remain here without a chaperone," Aragorn argued. "They . . . I cannot allow this. The harm that it will do to her honor—"

"What honor?" Legolas asked harshly anger burning in his blue eyes once more. "You know as well as I what will have happened to her, Aragorn. There is nothing that Boromir could take from her even if he would. Let them be. They _deserve_ a bit of comfort after what they have both been through in the past few days. Would you deny Emily the comfort of one who loves her after her ordeal?"

"I would not," Aragorn replied. "But what of her reputation? It would not do to have it said that she was lying with him outside the bonds of marriage."

"Who here would say such a thing?" Legolas asked. "We know the truth of the matter and there is no one else to see. And again, it is irrelevant. Any who learn of her capture will already believe the worst. They can do no damage to her good name. It is already tarnished beyond repair. Let them take what solace the other can provide. I know that it is not truly my place, but I have already given him my blessing to court her. He is a good man, Aragorn, and he loves her deeply. And she has made her love of him quite clear through her actions. If they still desire one another I will not stand in their way. Will you?"

"I will not," Aragorn sighed. "And you are correct, as usual, my friend. It will do no harm to allow them this respite. I will leave them in peace." With that, Aragorn moved to pass Emily and Boromir and see to the horses. Again he had only taken a couple of steps when he found his passage blocked once more. This time, it was Gimli who stood in his path.

"You leave that lass alone, Aragorn," the dwarf said glaring up at the Man. "She has been through more than enough the past few days and needs to sleep. They both do. I do not believe that Boromir has gotten more than a couple of hours sleep in the past three days. If laying together affords them that rest I will not stand by while you separate them."

"Peace, Gimli," Aragorn said with a smile. "Legolas has already dissuaded me from separating them. I will let them sleep as they will. I am merely going to see to the horses." The Dwarf nodded and shifted his stance to allow Aragorn to pass but turned to watch the Man walk by, prepared to interfere the second his words were revealed to be a subterfuge.

"This _is_ an interesting development," Gandalf said from behind Legolas with a laugh. He had watched all of this unfold from the sidelines and was only entering the conversation now that it was over. "It seems that I have missed much in the time that we were parted. When did _that_ occur?" He gestured with his staff at Boromir and Emily.

"Nothing has actually occurred yet, Mithrandir," Legolas replied with a fond smile. Gandalf raised an eyebrow and gestured at the couple once again. His expression clearly saying '_that_ is nothing?' Legolas laughed, a light clear sound before he amended his statement.

"Until today nothing had occurred," he said. "They began growing close—"

"In Moria,"Gandalf said with a smile. "I saw a closeness between them but I was not aware that it was love. This may be good for both of them."

"So far it has not been good for Emily," Legolas said sadly. "Or Boromir for that matter. It was her love for him that led her to change his fate. Mithrandir, Boromir was to have died at the Falls of Rauros attempting to prevent the capture of Merry and Pippin by the Uruk-hai. Emily . . . she deceived him and tried to rescue the hobbits herself. That was what led to her capture and . . ." he gestured vaguely at her, her injuries speaking for themselves.

Gandalf closed his eyes, feeling sorrow for her well within him. He had warned her of the risks of changing the order of events. She had already paid the price for this change. He only hoped that she would feel that the price she had paid was worth the gain and that her changes would have no grave consequences to the outcome of this war. He was not sure how things had ended in her time but he now could only hope that her changes would not sway the battle in favor of the darkness. Even so, he could not bring himself to hope that her changes would kill her. He hoped that she would live to learn from her mistake.

"How grave are her injuries," he asked with a sigh. He was surprised to see Legolas' fair face darken in anger.

"She will survive," he said. "She will bear scars from her time with the Uruks but she will survive." Gandalf nodded. He had yet to see her injuries but he knew that an Elf in the hands of Uruks would have been harshly treated indeed. His heart ached for her as it did for all the innocents that were caught in the middle of a war that should have been settled Ages ago when Sauron was only a minor servant of Morgoth grasping for power. So many lives had been lost, so much that was good destroyed for the mercy and foolishness of a few. He vowed in that moment that he would do what he could with the new life he had been given to rid the world of the darkness forever even if it did mean the eternal end of him.

"We will give her time to rest," Gandalf said suddenly shocking them all. The wizard had been still for too long and had slipped into one of his meditative states. His statement seemed entirely unrelated to the current topic which had been whose turn it was to cook dinner now that they had time to do so.

"Pardon?" Aragorn asked wondering if Gandalf would feel inclined to let the rest of them in on his private conversation.

"Emily," Gandalf said. "All of you, actually. I know that our business in Edoras is urgent but it will do no harm to rest here for the night and get an early start with well-rested bodies and mounts on the morrow. After you have finished with dinner you should all rest. I will take the watches tonight."

"You and I can split them," Legolas countered. "I do not need rest."

"If you are taking a watch I will take one as well," Gimli said resolutely. "I am weary but if an elvish princling can take a watch so can I."

"Neither of you will take a watch," Gandalf said with a laugh. "Master Dwarf, while your people are hardy you still must rest. I, on the other hand, have rested much too long as it is. I will take this night's watches and that is that." None of them argued. Partially because none of them had any desire to take a watch because they were weary and partially because none of them had the heart to defy this new, more powerful, version of Gandalf. Instead they turned back to their meal, the first hot meal they had had since before the breaking of the fellowship. Gandalf smiled as he listened to their friendly banter—especially the exchanges between Legolas and Gimli. He wondered what else he had missed that Glóin's son would become _friends_ with the son of the man who had imprisoned his father. Even so, it did his heart good to see that Dwarves and Elves were capable of friendship. Perhaps there was hope for them all yet.

**ooOO88OOoo**

Boromir awoke as the smell of food wafted towards him. He smiled in his half-sleep state and wondered what his brother had decided to cook that day. He shifted his weight in an attempt to stretch only for his bed to shift below him and to find that his movements were inhibited by a warm weight against his side and on his shoulder. His eyes flew open as he wondered if Faramir had played another prank on him and preparing to lecture his brother on appropriate ages to do such things. Rather than his room, he was met with open sky of a fiery orange hue.

Suddenly it all rushed back to him. The quest, and the past few days with Emily and the hobbit's capture and her rescue. He glanced down quickly and saw that she was still curled up against him where she had been when he had fallen asleep. She was peaceful in sleep and he smiled gently down at her, he could get used to waking with her in his arms.

His smile faded as he realized that the bruise that marred her face seemed to have darkened while they slept and it seemed to have swelled even farther. No matter what she had said, he could not be absolved for his part in her injuries so easily. With a sigh he gently brushed along the bruise, applying no pressure but skimming along the skin before shifting and pressing a chaste kiss to her forehead.

"Never again," he promised. "Never again will a bruise mar your skin for my sake. Even if it takes me from this earth I will allow no harm to come to you again, I swear it. I owe you my life, Emily. If I have to give it to save yours, so be it." She let out a quite sleep noise at his words and shifted against him before stilling once more. His smile returned as he gently brushed back the short hairs framing her face that had already escaped from her braid. He did have to admit that he was fascinated by the color. He had never seen it before.

It was the second time that he had done it that she released a little noise of protest and twitched away from his hand. He pulled his hand back not wanting to wake her and hoping that she would drift back to sleep. She didn't. Instead she twitched again, this one more violent than the first had been, and another noise came up her throat, this one of clear distress. Her breathing had begun to speed and small sobs were not leaving her.

It was with great sorrow that he realized she was in the throes of a nightmare. His sorrow only increased when he reached out to wake her and she batted away his hand with a desperate cry before she tried to curl in on herself and began to plead with unseen foes.

"please," he heard her sob. "Please . . . no . . . don't . . . not 'gain."

"Emily," he said grasping her shoulder and giving it a firm shake. He released her in shock when she let out a pain filled scream at the contact. "Emily," he said suddenly his tone repentant. "I am so sorry. I was unaware that your shoulder was injured or I would never . . ." he trailed off as he realized that she was not awake, that scream had been a product of her dream. She was still twitching against him and begging not to be hurt, her pleas becoming more clear and more desperate the further she slipped into the memory.

"No," she sobbed, her words as clear as if she were speaking to him and he felt anger and shame coil in his stomach as he realized what it was that she was dreaming about. "No, Don't! Please! I . . . anything else! Not again! PLEASE!" Her screams had drawn the rest of the company who were looking at him with accusing eyes until they looked more closely and realized that Emily was still fully clothed and very much asleep.

"Please," Boromir begged, "help me wake her." No matter how much he knew that he deserved to be forced to listen to this he could not bear it. It was torture enough to know that she had been violated but to have to bear witness to it . . . it was too much for him. He knew that it was worse for her to endure and be forced to relive but . . . this was a task that was beyond him. He knew that he needed to wake her but was at a loss for how to do it. Every tactic that he knew of involved a part of her that bore an injury.

In the end it was only when Aragorn grabbed her shoulder while Boromir held her wrists to keep her from striking the other Man that she was awakened. He watched as the blind fear faded from her eyes as she recognized him before they filled with tears.

"It . . . it was just a dream?" she sobbed. "But . . . it . . . it felt so real. I . . . I could feel his hands on me as he—" she cut herself off with a sob and buried her face in Boromir's shoulder as she wept. Her hands throbbed at the memory of the Uruk leader snapping the bones. It had been bad enough the first time, why did she have to relive it in her nightmares?

"Hush," Boromir soothed stroking her hair as she wept and feeling grateful that the others had moved off to give them a bit of privacy. He wasn't sure what she was about to say but he was glad that they had not remained to hear it. Even if it did not matter to him what may have been done to her, the others had no need to know explicitly, if only for her sake.

"Hush," he repeated. "You are safe now. No one will ever treat you so poorly again. I swear it. I would kill anyone who tried. Calm yourself, dear one. You are safe." He continued in this manner until her sobs quieted and only the occasional sniffle betrayed the fact that she had wept at all.

"Do you wish to discuss it?" he offered hoping that the answer was 'no' but willing to listen if she felt the need to talk. He felt guilty for the relief he felt when she shook her head to indicate that she did not wish to talk. He knew that it was wrong of him to be relieved that she did not want to share her burden with him. She was forced to bear it . . . he _should_ be able to share it with her. But all the same, he was relieved and did not press her. He contented himself with the knowledge that she would share when she was ready to do so.

"I believe that there is food," he said gently. "Would you like to move over to the fire with the others?" She raised her head and glanced towards the fire before shaking her head. It was too far. Her feet throbbed at the _thought_ of walking on them and there was no way that she would ask him to carry her to the fire like a child. She wasn't helpless. She would find a way there on her own or she would remain where she was. But she knew that she was wrong. She _was_ helpless. At least for the moment. There was no way that she could get to that fire on her own power. She couldn't _walk_ there and with her broken hands she couldn't even crawl there. She was helpless.

She felt cold fury well within her as the true measure of what had been done to her sank in. It wasn't just the beatings—which had been bad enough—or the threats, or the mistreatment . . . the Uruks had taken far more from her than enjoyment of her pain: they had taken her ability to care for herself. She had worked _so_ hard to prove that she was useful—the sewing, learning to fight, the fish—and the Uruks had taken any progress that she may have made and destroyed it. _No_, she amended, _I did when I didn't think things all the way through. Dad always warned me that my lack of planning would get me in trouble. Well, Dad, you were right. I only wish that you were here now, or that I was home. _She felt tears fill her eyes at the thought of _home. _

Home: where there were no such things as Uruks, or evil Rings with masters bent on world domination and where there was coffee, painkillers and family that loved her. Where the biggest decision she really had to make was what she wanted to eat, not wonder _if_ she was going to get to eat anything and if she was where would be the best place to find it. Where no one had ever raised a hand to her in anger or hurt her just to be cruel. Where no one that she knew was in imminent threat of death on a daily basis. Where she hadn't been sucked into a war.

She tried to curl in on herself in an attempt to stave off the misery that she could feel creeping in on her but the movement stretched the skin of her back and her wounds flared to painful life where they had been a dull ache only moments before. For a moment her world was agony, every breath sent fire through her back as it moved and then it faded once more to the dull ache and she could breathe. She felt a sob tear up her throat and tried to stop it, not from embarrassment for her tears—there was no way that the fellowship could think any less of her than they already did—but because the sobs _hurt_ as they shook her body and forced their way up her abused throat. It _hurt_.

Despite her best efforts, once they had started, she was unable to stop the sobs that wracked her body. She had lost everything: her home, her friends, her family, her sense of security, her autonomy. She had nothing left to lose. She was Emily, the shell of Emily when everything else had been stripped away. For the first time she saw herself clearly and didn't like what she saw. She was weak, selfish, petty, and useless. She never through things through, her pride was too easily wounded and she was too _damn_ stubborn to take help where it was offered because her pride would not allow it. All she had left was her life and if that was how she truly was at the core, she wasn't sure that she wanted to keep it. What good was a useless life?

She jumped as she felt a gentle hand on her arm and opened her tear-filled eyes to see Boromir staring down at her with pity in his grey eyes and a plate of food in his hand.

"Don't," she sobbed. "Don't look at me that way. I . . . I don't deserve your pity. I don't deserve anything. I'm . . . I'm worthless."

"No," he argued gently. "You are not worthless, Emily."

"I am too!" she snapped. "I'm a horrible person. All I do is make mistakes and cause pain. None of you would have been stupid enough to be captured by Uruks. _You_ would have been smart enough to write the note days earlier and . . . I don't know, change course entirely and just avoid the Uruks in the first place. Not march right into their clearing and basically say 'Here I am! Take me with you! I know that you will need a punching bag and I volunteer!' You would have done something different." He reached out in an attempt to stroke the side of her face only to have her pull away sharply so instead he knelt beside her with both of his hands on the plate.

"I am sorry, Emily," he said with a sad smile. "I am afraid that I must disagree with your assessment of the situation. If you remember, in the version of events that you know I behaved just as you did. Did I not charge into the clearing with the thought of rescuing the hobbits single-handedly and get myself killed?" His tone was bitter and Emily couldn't help but smile sadly at it.

"Your death was a little more noble than that," she argued. "You were only trying to make up for what you did to Frodo and—"

"You know of that as well?" He asked breathlessly, his face a mask of horrified shock. "That was my worst moment and you know of it."

"It wasn't that bad," she said. "You were just trying to save your people and thought that it was the best way to do it. People have done worse for less."

"I assaulted a _friend _because he refused to do as I wished," Boromir snapped not noticing the way Emily flinched at his raised voice and ducked as if expecting a blow. "I _attacked _one who was smaller and weaker than me in an attempt to _rob_ him of something that was rightfully his. There is no justification for that. I would not have my city saved in such a way: at such a cost. I was a fool." His anger faded and regret for his actions took its place. Regret that only deepened when he saw the way that she was cowering. His eyes filled with sadness as he saw the fear that was in her brown eyes as she looked at him, and the wordless pleading for mercy in her expression.

"And now you fear me," he muttered, his tone soft. "Please, do not fear me, Emily. I will never raise a hand to you. I swear it. I will _never_ strike you. Nor will any other as long as I still draw breath." She released a breath that she hadn't realized that she was holding. She hadn't been aware of the fact that she had expected him to strike her and she was confused by it. When had she grown so afraid of others?

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I . . . I didn't mean to . . . no one had ever hit me before," she explained. "Not like that. There was no sense to it. I mean . . . there was one time that I might have truly deserved it—when I stabbed him—but . . . there were times they hit me just to see me in pain. Or . . . if I fell . . . before they would drag me back to my feet there were always a few kicks . . . I . . . no one _ever _treated me that way at home."

"No one should have done so here either," Boromir told her. "I . . . I should have taken better care of you. I apologize that you had to learn of the cruelties of this world, Emily."

"It's not your fault," she reminded him. "If I was to blame anyone for this it would either be myself of the Valar for dumping me here in the first place. I wish they'd just left me the hell alone. I was _happy_ where I was. There was no war, no pain. Just . . . I want to go home."

"Do you truly regret coming here so much?" Boromir asked with hurt in his eyes. "Does nothing here please you? I know that the past couple of days have been difficult however, I believed that you were growing used to this world, perhaps even coming to enjoy your time here . . . before you were captured."

"I was," Emily replied. "I even managed to forget what we're doing. Boromir, I'm not cut out for this. I . . . I'm not cut out for war and death and . . . I can't do this." The last words were so filled with despair that they broke his heart. She was right. She didn't belong here. Not in the middle of a war. She should be somewhere safe where she could not be hurt again. She _should _go home if she could. It was what was best for her, even if it broke his heart to think of her leaving.

"I know that I bear no fault in this," he told her with a sad smile. "Even so, I am sorry that this has happened to you. If it is within my power I will see that you are returned to your home. Even if I would have you stay with me to the end of my days. I know that it is unfair and unkind of me to seek to bind you in such a way. I will aid your return in whatever way I can." She thought through what he had said for a moment before the meaning of his words sank in.

"Boromir?" she asked suddenly, causing him to look up at her once more. "Did you just ask me to stay with you forever?" He was surprised to see a small smile on her face. Even though it pleased him to see her smiling in the face of what she had just said it almost made him feel that she was mocking him.

"Not as such, no," He replied. "I would never ask that of you, Emily. It would be unfair of me to seek to keep you here for my own pleasure when you desire to return to your world. However, the offer is there if you choose to take it. You are welcome to remain in this world with me until such a time as you are able to leave for your own."

"So you would take pleasure from me?" She asked, her eyes going wide as she realized just what she had asked him. She felt a flush creep up her face and wished that she hadn't said it, especially when he began to blush as well at the implications of what they had both just said.

"I . . . not _take_," Boromir stuttered, clearly thrown off by her casual mention of the word 'pleasure' in such a context. "However . . . if such a thing were _offered_ freely . . . I . . . I would not _decline_ such an offer. Not from you."

"Relax," she laughed, even if she still felt miserable and was quite homesick seeing Boromir so flustered amused her. She had never seen him stutter before. "I didn't think that you meant that you would try to take me by force. I know you would never do that." He nodded to her in relief, some of his blush beginning to fade. When it was nearly gone she smirked wondering how little it would take to bring it back.

"Just so you know," she said innocently, "such a thing . . . it would be offered _quite_ freely. In fact, as soon as I have healed up a bit . . . well . . . we might see what we can do about an offer, if you get my drift." His eyes went wide at her words and he looked at her as if she had grown a second head. Had she just _propositioned _him?

"Emily, I . . ." he tried to find the words to demonstrate his shock at what she had just said. It was entirely improper for her to be _suggesting_ that they should lie together in _that_ way. It was not how things were done.

"I do not know how to reply," he answered honestly.

"Don't worry about it," Emily said with a sad smile as she realized that she had just crossed some boundary that she had not known was there and that she ought not have crossed. "Just like your offer for me to remain here, mine is open to you whenever you ever decide that you want it. If you figure out how to answer me, all you have to do is say the word." Neither of them said anything for a time, Emily's suggestion hanging between them and making the atmosphere tense.

"So," she said suddenly, "What's on the plate? Smells good."

"They recooked some of the fish that you caught," he said his tone revealing the awkwardness he still felt. "Are you hungry?"

"Starving," Emily corrected sadness in her eyes as she remembered the past couple of days though she kept her voice light. "I haven't eaten in a couple of days. _Apparently,_ escape attempts take away your rights to food as far as Uruks are concerned."

"In that case it is a good thing that I brought two plates, is it not?" he asked with a half-grin as he offered her one. She reached for it only to realize that she had no way to take it with her broken hands. Or to eat it for that matter.

"Damned Uruks!" she snarled as she stared longingly at the fish, the smell of which was wafting to her nose and causing her neglected stomach to stir to painful life. She was ashamed of the whimper that left her lips but she could not stop it. Food was _so_ close and it didn't matter. Her choices were either to go hungry or to eat it off the plate with her teeth like an animal. Just like with moving to the fire she had no desire to ask him to feed her . . . especially not after what had just passed between them. It could _quite_ easily be taken the wrong way.

Boromir nearly laughed as her expressions shifted as she studied the plate. First with longing then frustration then resignation and finally determination. He was surprised by just how expressive she could be without saying a word. And then her eyes flicked up to his face and she smiled crookedly at him.

"Can you put the plate on the ground, please?" she asked, her voice level despite the shame that she felt at how she was about to eat her food. She wondered if she could ask him to go away and let her eat in peace without offending him.

"No," he replied with a laugh, "I will not put your plate on the ground and force you to scrounge on the floor like a dog. I will hold your plate."

"Well I won't eat out of your hands like one either," she snapped some of her fire coming back at her indignation that he wanted to hold the plate while she ate from it, even as part of her mind whispered that she wouldn't be able to bend to eat it off the ground anyway and that she should take his offer, no matter how much it hurt her pride.

"Emily, you have to eat and I have no intention of placing your plate on the ground," Boromir replied with a sigh.

"And I have no intention of eating out of a plate that you are holding!" she snarled. "One of us is going to have to give in on this and it will not be me. Will you deny me food?" she asked knowing that it was below the belt to paint the choice that way but if it would spare her a bit of shame she would do it.

"I will neither deny you food nor concede the matter," Boromir returned with a sardonic smile in place once more. This banter was familiar, comfortable and gave both of them more comfort than all their apologies and confessions had. It cleared both of their heads and as they fell into a familiar pattern Emily nearly forgot her homesickness and she began to see things a bit more logically. Everything in Middle Earth was not pain and death just as things at home were not all sunshine and daisies. Both places had their evils. Evils which she did not wish to dwell on so threw herself whole-heartedly into their banter.

"I don't see how you can do both of those things," Emily snapped with a grin, her eyes dancing with mirth for the first time since she had been rescued. "I will not eat with you holding the plate and you won't put it down so . . . you are now standing between me and food. What do you intend to do about it, Boromir?"

"Feed you," he replied with a smirk. The look of shock on her face was priceless but was only there for a moment before she snorted and replied.

"No you damn well won't!" she said incredulously, both laughter and steel in her words. "If I refuse to eat from a plate in your hands what the hell makes you think that I would eat directly from your hands?"

"You did just offer to allow me to do other things with my hands," he purred with a raised eyebrow pleased to see that he had shocked her once again. "How is what I am proposing any worse?"

"It . . . It just is," she said, trying to get her feet back under her metaphorically. His seductive side always took her unawares and left her feeling flustered. "I won't let you feed me like a child! I am capable of feeding myself!"

"Are you?" he asked with a wry smile. "Feel free then, my lady. Take your plate and feed yourself."

"That's not fair," she glared at him. "You know that I can't do that."

"Precisely," he replied his smile falling a bit as her mood shifted once more. "Allow me to aid you in this, Emily. Just open your mouth." With a sigh and feeling decidedly foolish she opened her mouth so that he could place a small piece of fish inside it. For some reason her mind suddenly flashed an image of blind, naked, ugly baby birds cheeping for their mothers to feed them with their little beaks open wider than should be possible. She hoped that she at least looked a little better than a baby bird. Despite her shame at the situation she couldn't deny that the fish was the most delicious thing that had ever hit her tongue. She felt a moan rise up her throat as the flavor of it washed down her throat.

"Do you see now?" Boromir asked with a laugh. "There is no shame in accepting help when it is freely offered and you are in need of it. If you would not have agreed you would not have gotten to eat that fish and I would have been denied hearing such _interesting_ noises come from you."

"If the others make fun of me for this I will never forgive you," she said glaring at him as soon as her mouth was clear before taking another bite from his fingers.

"If they attempt it I will avenge your honor," Boromir promised lightly. "Now, stop your complaining and eat. You are far too thin."

"It was only two days," Emily argued. "I can't've lost that much weight in two days."

"Then we will just have to make sure that you eat a bit more, will we not?" Boromir replied, his eyes twinkling at her indignation at being called thin.

"Or perhaps not," he amended, the purr that unnerved her so back once more. "I believe that you would be nearly irresistible with a bit more meat on your bones. We might just have to find out is your offer was in truth or just bravado in that case. But that is no matter at the moment. Open your mouth." She opened her mouth just wide enough to snap another retort at him only to have a piece of fish pushed into it silencing her reply.

_Fine,_ she thought, _if this is how he wants to play it. . ._

He was worried when her brown eyes lit with what appeared to be mischief but wasn't sure what it was that she could be plotting. Her hands were broken and she could barely move . . . it wasn't as if she could be planning anything too evil. He watched as she swallowed the bite that he had just placed in her mouth before opening her mouth and looking at him expectantly. Her smile and the light in her eyes made him wary but he could not deny her and broke off another small piece of food to place into her mouth. He was shocked when her lips closed around his fingers before her tongue ran across them.

"What are you—" His question was bit off in a small moan as she scraped her teeth along his finger, an emotion that he did not recognize burning in her eyes that were locked on his own. Suddenly he felt unbelievably dirty. The look on her face as her mouth closed around his fingers . . . for the first time he understood why she did not want the others to see him feeing her. This had taken a decidedly wicked turn. He felt himself being to stir at what her mouth was doing to his fingers and pulled his hand free in shock. He hadn't known that _fingers_ were an erogenous zone.

"What . . . what were you doing?" he breathed pulling his hand against his chest as if her warm mouth had burned him.

"I was giving you a down payment on my offer," she replied insecurity at his rejection beginning to take the place of whatever that other emotion in her eyes had been. "Did I . . . are you . . . are you angry with me?" She sounded generally upset at the idea that he was angry with her. And she was. She had not meant to upset him. They had been teasing and she thought that . . . well, he _had_ been the one to bring her offer back up so she had thought that it would be ok . . . clearly she had been wrong. He seemed panicked by her actions.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I crossed the line again, didn't I?" He nodded slightly beginning to relax as she showed contrition for her actions.

"Just a bit," he replied. "What was that, Emily? What were you doing to my fingers and why—" he cut himself off as a deep blush crept up his face and neck at the fact that he had been about to ask her why he had found it pleasurable.

"You mean that y'all don't do oral here?" she asked in shock as she realized just how much she had crossed the line with this one. It wasn't a toe over, she had taken a great flying leap and could no longer even see the line that she had crossed. Color rose up her face until she matched him: both of them a fiery crimson color because of her actions.

"Oral?" he asked in confusion. "I am afraid that I do not understand what you mean, Emily. Can you explain it to me?" She laughed hysterically at the idea of trying to explain _that_ to him. Ending in a small moan as the laughter jarred her injuries.

"No," she said once she was able. "I can't explain it. If you ever _do_ decide to take me up on my offer I can show you. Deal?"

"It is a deal," he agreed. Her words confused him and he wondered what she was talking about that she could _show_ him but not tell him. And why he would have to take her up on her offer first.

"Can I please have another bite?" she said with a contrite smile. "I would get it myself but," she held her hands up pathetically. He eyed her warily and she sighed. "I will be good, I swear," she sighed. "I won't do it again until you ask, ok?" He nodded and broke off another piece of fish to place into her mouth. She took it without a repeat of her previous actions and he smiled at her. She returned the smile and once more they fell into light banter broken with companionable silence as they both finished their meal.

Little did they know that their entire exchange had been witnessed. Gandalf had been seeking solitude among the horses and had heard every word that was said. He shook his head fondly at the exuberance of youth and hoped that the two of them would both be alive and happy at the end of it all. How quickly Emily seemed to have bounced back from her ordeal gave him hope that she truly had been sent for a reason and he knew then that there was something that he needed to correct before it was too late. He only hoped that she was actually up to the task that had been set out before her.

**ooOO88OOoo**

**Well. . . I have nothing to say about this one. . . I don't even . . . yeah . . . *scoffs* All I can say is that I hope you enjoyed it :) I don't even know where this one came from . . . **

**Anyway, as always, thank you to everyone who took the time to read this chapter or to add it to your alerts or favorites.**

**And a special thank you to those of you who reviewed.**

**Kilataia:**** I'm glad that you loved it! And yeah . . . resetting bones with no painkillers . . . poor Emily :(**

**KrystalSky:**** Same here . . . poor dear :(**

**Padme4000:**** That it was! I mean it IS a war, after all :) and I am glad that you did like the darkness :) And I'm glad that you are enjoying the helpful Boromir moments. And yeah . . . it was bad for her but for my plot . . . well it works well there. Poor Emily :( And actually I like Eomer as well! And I am glad that you liked what I did with him (as I said I was quite nervous about it) And I'm glad that you loved it! I figured that it was high time to give y'all a bit of Boromir/Emily goodness ;) especially after all the evil things that I had done to them in the past couple of chapters :( And they will eventually talk about that and you're right, that will do miracles for his conscience . . . if not his peace of mind later. And yeah . . . resetting bones is VERY painful . . . I figured I would have a little mercy on her after the last few chapters :) And yep . . . damn hero complexes. . . *sigh* and that she does. She needs all the help that she can get. The Valar really did kick her out of the nest like a fledgling bird cackling "fly or die little bird! Fly or die!"(Sorry my mind is on baby bird analogies at the moment). Let's just hope that she figures this out before she goes *splat* . . . **

**Michelle:**** I'm glad that I could get a little Boromir love going :) He's not really well treated in most fics :( and I'm not even sure if he will believe her when she does tell him . . . we'll just have to see, won't we? ;)**

**UntilNeverDawns:**** Thank you! And yep, she's safeish :) and yeah . . . there are all kinds of repercussions just from that . . . my poor brain is working overtime trying to figure out just what all needs to change now . . . there's LOTS! **

**Eviline: ****If you made it this far I will assume that she is not a Sue but I would still like to hear what you think of Emily at this point in the story :) And that was almost the point. I wanted to see if I could take all the elements that make a Sue and make a not-Sue if that makes any sense . . . probably not. That sentence was a bit muddled :/ And I'm glad that you liked the mix with the humor . . . this would get entirely too dark without some humor :) And she does a good deal more than befriend Boromir ;) And yep . . . Poor Gandalf has to die :( and yep! Good job on the ages :) And poor Frodo indeed! And she's got A bra . . . poor thing. And the Elves gave her a few more Middle-Earthy undergarments . . . and yeah … no razor for her :( And I knew that! I read an article on that recently . . . I'm not a fan of giving it a go though :) And yep :) Fathers out to protect her honor :) And . . . I may have to have Aragorn do that! It would be beyond funny! And in the book it was a pebble in the well, not a skeleton :) That's why I left that out :) and as to what she know . . . she's seen the movies but that is it. ****I****, on the other hand, have both seen the movies and read the books and am going to use her lack of knowledge to my advantage *laughs evilly* I'm glad that I managed to give her a bit of depth . .. and yeah . . . Aragorn's meddling . . . perhaps it's sweet?**

**Estelle Lumene: **** Everywhere could do with a little more unconditional acceptance. We'll just have to see how well he holds on to that philosophy once he learns that she is not a virgin and wasn't raped . . . somehow I don't see that going well :/ And I am glad that you enjoyed the breath of fresh air in that chapter. Hopefully this one isn't too bad either :)**

**Lira-leigh54: ****I know what you mean . . . Poor dear :( he is trying he just . . . he's out of his element with this one. He loves her and he doesn't really know how to help her with this :( She did . . . now he needs to talk some sense into her . . . or someone else does ;) And yay Aragorn! And I'm not sure if they will believe her or not . . . we'll just have to see ;) and Thank you! I hope that you enjoyed this one as well :)**

**Angel Bells: ****"SPICY CAT GOD"? Really? I'm glad that you loved it! And they will all eventually get it all out in the light when she is a little less embarrassed and they are a little less . . . yeah . . . anyway . . . that is NOT going to be a fun conversation for either of them. .. I have a feeling that he is NOT going to take that near as well as he took her "being raped". And I'm not sure how those three are going to get on . . . we'll just have to see :) I think that her race will truly hinder a friendship with Eowyn . . . but we'll see. I could be wrong ;)**

**19seventythree: ****Awww! That is such a sweet thing to say! Thank you! And I'm glad that you loved that chapter. And there might be ;) They do have it all out there now . . . I hope you liked the newest one :) **

**LOTRfan:**** I'm glad that you loved it! And there will be a bit more Boromir/Emily coming up in the next chapters :) I deprived y'all far too long ;) And I'm glad that you liked their conversations. And she will eventually. We'll just see how he takes it when she does :)**

**Guest:**** I'm glad that you are now onboard! Thank you for your kind words. I hope that you continue to love it!**

**That's all for now folks. I hope you enjoyed it and would love to know what you think (even if you hated it) so please leave me a review if you have time and/or feel so inclined.**

**Stickdonkeys**


	27. Childhood Tales and Threats

Soon after Emily finished eating she felt sleep begin to press in on her mind once more. But unlike the last times she had slept this time the call of the blackness was not an escape. For the first time in days she was full and felt safe. But even with sleep beckoning and with the knowledge that no harm would come to her while she slept, she was unable to do so.

Her mind was begging for her to allow it to shut off but without the aid of emotional exhaustion or physical pain intense enough to drive her to unconsciousness she couldn't do it. No matter how she tried to arrange herself on her bedroll she put unbearable pressure on some wound or another. And her shifting to attempt to find a comfortable position made the wounds along her back throb in time to her heartbeat. Once more, every breath she took sent tongues of fire through her and it was everything that she could do to bite back her sobs of pain. She knew that they would accomplish nothing except to make all of them feel worse, but even so she could not stop the whimpers that occasionally crawled traitorously up her throat.

After about the third time this happened, Boromir softly called her name. He had restrained himself up until that point because he knew that she occasionally sighed in her sleep and believed this to just be a heavier version of the same but after it happened on three consecutive breaths he saw it for what it was: a sound of discomfort. Once he realized what it was, he could not sit by and ignore her. If there was anything in his power to ease her suffering he intended to do it.

Emily glanced at him at her name, surprised to see the tenderness in his eyes that he was making no effort to conceal. She was not accustomed to seeing such looks from him. True, they had flirted and tiptoed around one another but he had never allowed her to see him looking at her like that before. She found that she liked it even if she didn't like what had brought it about.

"Are you in pain?" he asked quietly, his tone showing just how much he hated the idea.

"No," she replied sarcastically, her pain making her tone sharper than she had intended it to be. "I'm _perfectly_ fine. It's not like I can't take a damn breath without feeling like I'm going to burst into flames or use my hands to help myself roll over without feeling like they're being stabbed. No, I'm not in pain. Not at all."

"That is a relief," he replied snippily. He knew that she was only being so harsh with him because of the pain of her injuries and that he probably deserved her ire but all the same he did not appreciate her attitude. He was only trying to help. "I was worried that sleeping on the ground like that would pain you. I am glad to know that I was mistaken. As that is the case, sleep well, Emily. I only asked because generally when one makes the noises you were a bit ago it is an indicator of pain." She sighed in response, realizing what she had done.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I shouldn't have spoken to you like that. It's just . . . This is so frustrating. I'm not used to hurting . . . not like this. What I wouldn't give for a _Tylenol_!"

"What is a . . . Tylenol?" he asked in confusion. It was an odd word and it felt strange on his tongue. What could it be that she would desire it at a time like this?

"It's a . . . well, it's a pill. A painkiller," she said slowly as she tried to think through what terms she could use to explain Tylenol to him. She didn't even know if they _had_ painkillers in Middle Earth, though if they did she might be willing to trade her soul for one at the moment. "It's a drug that you can take that blocks pain receptors and—" she cut herself off as she saw his confusion deepen at the words 'pain receptors.' "It is . . . it makes things hurt less than they should. If you're in pain and you take one, or three, you are in _less_ pain. Does that make sense?" He nodded, understanding coming into his face as she continued her explanation.

"We have such things in the White City," Boromir said with a sad smile. "Our healers make concoctions that will numb the senses so that bones can be reset or wounds tended. I wish that I knew the ingredients but I am afraid that healing has never truly interested me. I was more interested in strategy and weapons than in how to tend the hurts they cause. My brother would be far more useful in this situation that I am."

"I disagree," Emily said with a small smile of her own. "You have been quite useful. Without you I would have just had to stare at my fish. That was useful." He scoffed but said nothing more on the matter, his opinion on his own usefulness readily apparent.

"Perhaps the healers in Edoras will have something similar," Boromir said quietly.

"We can hope," Emily replied as a yawn rose up her throat and she decided to try one final position. It was a way that she _never_ slept but desperate times called for desperate measures and with a grimace she rolled from her side onto her stomach. Her first through was that it was uncomfortable but bearable and then she took her first breath. Where before she had been breathing so that most of the expansion happened in her stomach rather than her chest, lying on her stomach made this impossible and caused a cry to rise up her throat as it pulled excruciatingly on the broken skin of her back.

As soon as the pain faded enough that she was able, she was attempting to get back unto her side, using her elbows rather than her hands, hoping that she could do it before she would have to take another agonizing breath. She knew that she was never going to be able to do it but suddenly there were gentle hands on her, lifting her before she was leaned against someone.

"If you would have asked I could have saved you that pain," Boromir whispered as he stroked her hair back from her face before wiping away her tears with the pad of his thumb. "I know from experience that is not a good way to attempt to sleep with injuries such as yours." It took a moment for his words to sink in and when they did she was horrified.

"You . . . someone . . . they . . ." she was unable to ask what she wanted the idea of some_one _—an human person—having done to him what the Uruks had done to her filling her with more rage than she known that she was capable of.

"No," Boromir replied sensing her distress. "My injuries were not _identical_ to yours, only similar." He took a deep breath before he began his story. "It happened when I was a child. Father had taken Faramir and me on an excursion. He was traveling on business but for us . . . for us it was an adventure. We had stopped to make camp for the midday meal. Father told us to play if we wished but to stay in sight of camp at all times."

"And you left camp," she mumbled sleepily against his chest, his steady tone and already familiar warmth soothing her and his body providing a more comfortable bed than the ground.

"No," Boromir said with a small mirthless laugh. "We did exactly as we were told as all good sons do. We stayed within sight of camp. I simply did not remain on the ground. There was a large pine tree. My brother and I were having a mock battle and I thought that it would be best to secure the high ground—and have projectiles to throw at Faramir if he dared venture close enough. I climbed higher than I should have. I still remember the sound of the boughs creaking under my weight in warning before it happened," he paused to shudder at the memory before he continued.

"The branch I was standing on broke under me and I fell," he said simply. "I . . . I _knew_ that I was going to fall to my death. And then I hit the first branch below me. In fact, I believe that I hit every branch that tree had on my way down. Thankfully I did not actually break anything but by the time I made it to the ground I was a mess. The rough bark of the tree had shredded my clothing and the flesh below and my hands were bloody and raw from the same from where I attempted to stop my fall.

"I have never seen my father so terrified," Boromir said with a small laugh. "He tended my wounds himself and canceled his trip to see me safely home. Not that it helped me much. We were three days out of Minas Tirith. The first day—after he finished cleaning them—was not so bad. They stung and throbbed a bit however it was bearable. It was the second and third day that were the worst. After a night of stillness, muscles cooled and stiffened and . . . even _breathing_ was agony, let alone _moving_. I could find no way to sleep comfortably at night save one.

"My father heard my sobs, and sat up with me," Boromir explained with a fond smile on his face as he remembered his father's tenderness. "He held me just as I am holding you. It was the one position that allowed me to sleep peacefully. I hope that it helps you as well." A soft snore was his only reply. Emily had fallen asleep in the middle of his story. He placed a gentle kiss to her brow before leaning his head back against the packs with a small smile on his face. His eyes flew open once more at the quiet sound of his name.

He glanced around quickly before he caught sight of Legolas standing nearby looking at them with eyes that were filled with infinite sadness.

"How is she?" Legolas asked quietly, as if he were afraid that he would wake her.

"She is upset and in pain," Boromir replied with a sigh. "She will not talk about what happened."

"I feared that would be the case," Legolas said with a frown. "May I?" He asked gesturing at the spot beside Boromir. The Man nodded and the Elf lowered himself gracefully to the ground. Emily chose that moment to shift slightly and at her quiet moan Legolas reached out and placed a cool hand on her brow in an attempt to soothe her as he muttered to her in his own language.

"What does that word mean?" Boromir asked suddenly, curiosity his chief emotion. Legolas looked up at him, confusion on his fair features. "You have used it often when you speak to her."

"Which word?" Legolas asked in return. He had a feeling that he knew but wanted to hear the Man say it.

"_Penneth_," Boromir said with a smile. Even if he did not know the actual meaning of it he could tell by the tone it was spoken in that it was a term of endearment. Even so, he did not feel threatened by it. The way that Legolas looked at Emily, while affectionate was not sexual. He, and Aragorn and even Gimli, looked at her with the affection that a father might have for a daughter. No, Boromir was not threatened by the affection the fellowship had for her, in fact, he was heartened by it. She needed her family and perhaps a surrogate family would make her time here easier and convince her that she should stay if the time ever came that she _could_ leave.

"I thought that was the word you meant," Legolas replied with a smile. "It means 'little one.' It is most commonly used with children however I feel that it fits. She may have the form and faculties of an adult however in the ages of my race she would hardly be more than a toddling babe."

"She is very young," Boromir agreed. "Not inappropriately so, yet her age did come as a bit of a surprise to me. I had thought that she was older. Why would the Valar have chosen one so young to put into such a cruel position?"

"That is a question that I have asked myself many times since she arrived," Legolas sighed. "I cannot answer it." Legolas was silent for a time before he spoke once more and the two of them sat in silence.

"Boromir," he said quietly once he did speak again. It was clear that he was reluctant to say what was on his mind but it was also clear that he would do it. "What I say now I do not say out of distrust of you. You are an honorable Man and I know that you care for her deeply. I also know that I have given you my blessing to court her. I know that I have no right to ask this of you now yet I will: please, do not rush your courtship of her. I know that you are both attracted to one another and I am aware of what that attraction can lead to. All I ask is that you give her time to recover from her ordeal and decide what she truly wishes to do _before_ this progresses any farther."

"This sudden request would not have anything to do with the conversation she and I had in private, would it?" Boromir asked with a wry smile.

"I am afraid that it does," Legolas replied with an almost sheepish smile. "I _swear_ to you that I did not intend to eavesdrop, my friend. It was because for the past three days I have been listening intently for any hint of her or the hobbits and even though we have now located her . . ."

"Worry not, Legolas," Boromir laughed cutting off the Elf's apology. "It is no matter. As her surrogate guardian you are well within your right to eavesdrop on any conversation she is a part of with me. I only thank you for the semblance of privacy. If you and Aragorn desired it, I would not be able to stop both you from sitting exactly where you are at all times that she is near me."

"As I said, that is not necessary," Legolas replied with a laugh of his own at the mental image of just how angry Emily would be with them if they decided to do so. "I know you to be an honorable Man. Additionally, I am afraid that Emily would not be pleased in the slightest by our interference in her love life. I am not sure if you are yet aware of this, Boromir, but Emily . . . she has fire in her veins and does not suffer offences against her pride in silence."

"Aye," Boromir agreed, a smile on his face as he recalled the way her eyes lit with anger just before she opened her mouth to lash into him, "I have felt the sting of her sharp tongue more than once. I swear that she must sharpen that thing just as a warrior would a sword. Even so, her fire is one of the things that I love about her. Such vitality! I was worried that her capture would have extinguished it as cruelty is want to. You have no idea how glad I was when she snapped at me about the food situation."

Legolas breathed a sigh of relief at his words. He had not had much experience with Men outside of the Men of Dale however he knew from conversations with others that outspokenness and independence were not traits prized in the wives of Men. He also knew that with Emily's personality the only way that such things could be suppressed were if they were beaten out of her. While he did not think for a moment that Boromir would raise a hand to Emily in an attempt to harm her, he had been unsure if Boromir would be able to tolerate her temper. He had been worried that the Man would grow tired of her and put her aside when she would not behave as she was supposed to. He was pleased that would not be the case. Even so, there was one more thing that Legolas felt needed to be said.

"Boromir," he said his voice quiet but holding a steel that caused the Man to glance up sharply and look carefully at the Elf that was regarding him carefully. "I know that this warning is unnecessary but I will say it all the same. Do _not_ make the mistake of believing that you are the only one that cares for her. We have all grown fond of her, none in the way that _you_ have but fond of her all the same. If you hurt her . . . I feel confidant speaking for us all when I say that such a thing will not be easily forgiven."

Boromir nodded solemnly. "I understand," he replied. "I will tell you, though I feel that it need not be said either, that I will never do that. Nor will I allow any more harm to befall her while I still draw breath. I love her, Legolas, as I never believed that I would love another and if she will have me I would wed her once this war is over. I would wed her now if it was not for the fact that I agree with your assessment that she needs time to recover before I ask her to make a decision as profound as that. You need not fear for her. Not from me."

"I believed that to be the case," Legolas replied with a soft smile as he stood. "I have said my piece and will leave you to seek sleep. Good night, Boromir." With that, the Elf placed a gentle hand on the Man's shoulder and walked back towards the fire where the rest of the fellowship had bedded down for the night.

Not long after Legolas departed, Boromir felt sleep begin to take him as well. He may have only been awake for a short time, but after the deprivation of the past few days, his body was more than willing to take sleep when it was offered. Rather than fight it, Boromir willingly surrendered to the darkness. He slept through until dawn. That night when he dreamed, it was of his city, pure and whole and untouched by the horrors of war. He saw his father and brother, together and happy with Emily beside them. When he awoke the next morning, the lingering peace from the dream stayed with him for a time and his heart felt lighter than it had in months.

**ooOO88OOoo**

**There we are all, a new chapter.**

**This time I have a QUESTION for you: For the next two weeks I am going to be writing like a madwoman to try to get as much done on these stories as I can before school starts up the first week of June. After it does updates will become much more sporadic (it's an accelerated program that compresses 2 years of study into 9 months. What would be a normal semester is now crammed into 8 weeks and well . . . that's a lot to do and very little time to do it) Here's where the question comes in. Do you want me to post as I get it done and get a mass amount of uploads in the next two weeks and then potentially silence for a while or would you rather that I hold them and give out a chapter (or two) a week? I think I prefer the spread out method but will do it whichever way is the most popular on each of my stories. I do want happy readers after all ;D. So vote for you choice in the reviews!**

**That said, as always, thank you to all of you that have favorited or added this one to your alerts.**

**And an extra special thank you to those of you that reviewed!**

**Baroque:**** I'm glad that you loved their interactions! And yeah . . . that was a no-go but I am glad that you still found them adorable and sweet :) and she'll let them know. And yeah . . . That conversation with Boromir will NOT be a pretty one :/ His poor sensibilities will never be the same again.**

**Michelle:**** Yep :) Poor dear will never be the same once she's done with him ;) But then again, neither will she.**

**KrystalSky:**** She'll let them know . . . not sure when but it will happen. And there is both on the emotional and physical side of things. And I am glad that you liked that scene :)**

**Angel Bells:**** I'm glad that you still love me :) Author love has been difficult to come by lately with my other fics :) And we'll just have to see how things go :/ I'm thinking that the fact that Emily gets rights with the fellowship (travel, battle, etc.) that she can't have will cause issues. And Emily may see it as a double-standard but . . . somehow I do not believe that Boromir OR Eowyn will agree with her on THAT one. And I haven't heard of the Spicy Cat God but I will have to look into worshiping it ;)**

**Vault108:**** Sorry to disappoint :P And thank you dear! I hope that you continue to enjoy it!**

**Rastas: ****Thank you so much! I am glad that you are enjoying their little courting dance and they will eventually have their time :) **

**FranzF: ****I'm glad that you enjoyed it! I'm especially glad that you liked the shifting emotions, I was a bit worried that I had overdone it :) And I'm not sure either and I don't know that Emily is either. And I am glad that it was believable and amusing :) And there will be lots more of their interactions and she will eventually tell him and the hobbits may help yet ;) And Gandalf has a plan but sending her back is not part of it. That's beyond his ability even in his White form. And I am glad that you love the reasoning sections. They are some of my favorites to write :) And I am very glad that you loved the fellowship scene and I'll see about finding a Balrog to feed him to if he tries :)**

**Kilataia: ****I'm glad that you found it sweet! And yeah . . . she's going to be a real shock to his poor sensibilities. . . .and maybe ;) You'll have to wait and see.**

**UntilNeverDawns: ****Cute works :) I'm glad that you loved the light in the darkness. **

**Estelle Lumene: **** Yeah . . . apparently even I was blushing when I wrote that scene . . . And Gandalf has a plan, trust me :) And yeah . . . it's not going to be pretty when that come out. . . And I will be honest, I'm not even quite sure what he's going to do yet but . . . it ain't gonna be pretty. :(**

**19seventythree: ****Thank you! I'm glad that you think it's brilliant :) I'm also glad that you enjoyed this little moment of piece. And yep . . . more upheaval to come. They are in the middle of a war after all :( **

**LOTRfan: ****Thank you! And I'm glad that you loved the guys interacting. And Aragorn will eventually get with the picture :) *winces* I don't want to write that part . . . somehow I do not see it going well :/ (Especially not with how he reacted to what she did to his fingers) . . . probably ain't going to be good.**

**SSJKarigan:**** I'm glad that you enjoyed it! Emily is a devious little thing, isn't she?**

**Madamezou:**** I'm glad that you enjoyed it! And there will be smut . . . eventually . . . I think :) well, it **_**is**_** an M rated romance ;) I am glad that you are loving it and hope that you continue to do so!**

**Padme4000:**** I am glad that you enjoyed it and thank you so much for your kind words about my writing! I am glad that I have done a good job at keeping everyone IC (there were a few moments where I worried that I failed) and still managed to get an OC romance going :) And they need all the pity that you can give them, poor things are about to have more issues in reconciling their different expectations of a relationship . . . and she is. She is learning more about herself and the world. It's too bad that it had to happen through pain :( And I am glad that you liked that analogy :)**

**Lira-leigh54: ****Thank you SO MUCH! That is one of the kindest things anyone has ever said to me :) and it was my goal to show issues such an addition would cause from the beginning! I am so glad to hear that I have accomplished it and glad that you loved that scene :) And the other characters will ALWAYS have roles in this story. Romances do not exist in a vacuum no matter how it may feel when they begin ;) Thank you again!**

**Well, that's all for now so please leave me a review if you have time and/or feel so inclined. I would LOVE to know what you thought of it (****especially**** if there was something that you hated)**

**Stickdonkeys**


	28. Bad Planning, Tempers and Errors Undone

Emily awoke slowly the next morning, her senses and memories coming back to her slowly as she felt her pillow stir beneath her. She knew before she was even fully awake that she was still cradled against Boromir as she had been when she had fallen asleep. She smiled sleepily at him before she realized that she couldn't stay there. With shame, she realized that nature was calling. Knowing that what she was about to do was going to hurt, she pressed against him with her forearm and managed to get to her knees.

The motion left her panting and fanned the embers of pain along her back but she knew that she could not stop there. Clenching her jaw she moved so that her left foot was under her and used the same forearm to lever herself to a standing position, swallowing down a cry of pain as her wounded feet and back protested. After a couple of shuddering breaths she closed her eyes and took a halting step. It was nothing short of agony but she had no other alternative and forced herself to take another. Eventually she managed to distance herself from camp enough that she felt comfortable relieving herself.

It was then that she encountered yet another problem: how was she supposed to go about it? With both of her hands broken she had no way of removing her pants. _Great,_ she thought sarcastically. _Great planning, Emily. You managed to get yourself away from camp just so that you can wet yourself in private. _With a grumble she pinched the hem of her shirt between her bandaged hands—ignoring the spike of pain at the pressure—and lifted it to her mouth where she held it out of her way as she fumbled with the laces that were holding her pants closed, using both hands to pinch them as she had her shirt.

She didn't bother to bite back her laugh of victory when she managed to get them loose. She wasn't sure how she was going to be able to get them tied again but figured that she would cross that bridge when she came to it. With a sigh of relief she pushed down her pants and took care of business. It was only once she was done that she realized that she was in a difficult position once more.

There she was, in the middle of a field with her pants around her knees and no way of pulling them back up and securing them. Boromir's words from the night before about asking for help floated through her mind and she forced them back viciously. She knew that she _could_ call for help and it would be freely given but the very _idea_ of calling for help with _this_ caused her face to burn with shame. So rather than that, she used the same method to pull her pants up as she had to pull up her shirt. For the first time she was truly glad that the Elves had given her pants that were a good deal larger than those she wore at home. She never could have gotten a pair of her pants from home back up.

But with the looser pants she _did_ manage it. When she released them and they stayed up where they belonged—albeit precariously—without being tied she decided that she had done more than enough for the time being and did what she could to rearrange her shirt before taking as deep a breath as she could and steeling herself for the walk back to camp. It took far longer than it should have to go such a short distance. She had thought that no one would notice her absence: she had been wrong.

No sooner had she limped out of the tall grass than she suddenly found herself being accosted by a very anxious Boromir.

"Do you have _any_ idea what I thought when I awoke and you were nowhere to be found?" Boromir demanded gripping her upper arms gently. "No one knew where you had gone, not even Gandalf. What were you thinking wandering off alone when you cannot defend yourself?"

"I was _thinking_ that I wanted to _pee_ without an audience," she snapped back. "I'm sorry that I forgot that I am supposed to ask your _permission_ before I get to leave your _presence!_"

"You . . . you left to . . ." his face flushed as he realized what she had just said. He knew that she was a living being and as such had to do such things but he had never actually _thought_ about her doing them. And she was so . . . open about it! He worry for her and his frustration with her for wandering off evaporated under the tide of his embarrassment.

"Why the hell else would I have limped out of camp on my own?" she demanded, her anger not disappearing just because he was embarrassed. She knew from previous relationships that their interactions early on would establish boundaries for later and had no intention of allowing him to think that this kind of behavior was acceptable. Even if he did want to protect her, she was capable of taking a pee on her own. Most of the time anyway.

"It wasn't for my own well-being, I can promise you that!" she continued. "If I would have had my choice I would _not _have left camp on my own two feet. They ache, in case you've forgotten. And also, just in case you've forgotten it too, I'm not stupid! I _know_ just how dangerous it is out there. Trust me, I know! And know this, Boromir, I _may_ screw up occasionally, but I _never_ make the same mistakes twice. And I will be _damned _if you think for one moment that I am going to let you to stand there and scold me like a child because I left camp without checking in first." She swatted his hands away from her with her forearms ignoring the pain the motion caused her and stood there glaring at him trying to ignore the throbbing in her feet or the pain that was radiating from her back at the effort of remaining upright and the increased depth of her breathing due to her ire. She wasn't sure how long she could keep it up.

Boromir blinked at her owlishly for a moment as he tried to process her words. There had been quite a few words that she had used in her tirade that he did now know and some that were used in such a way that they made no sense to him, but even through her nonsensical passages he understood the gist of her meaning: she was angry with him for treating her as if she needed protection. She wanted him to allow her to do as she would and do nothing to protect her from the dangers of the world. Even after what had just happened when she did.

At that realization, he felt anger and pain rise within him. He wondered if she truly thought so little of him that she would not allow him to care for her as a man was _supposed_ to care for a woman. Suddenly he saw her actions days before in a different light. What if she had saved him because she thought him less than a Man? What if she had done it not only out of love but out of pity as well? His wounded pride rose to the surface and he spoke before he thought through his words.

"And I will not stand here and allow you to rant at me in such a manner, Emily," Boromir snapped. "I am not treating you like a child but rather attempting to protect you as any man with any kind of honor whatsoever protects the woman he loves. In case _you_ have forgotten, we are in the middle of a War, Emily. There are enemies everywhere. We only just recovered you from them. Merry and Pippin are _still_ missing. I do not know what illusions you hold, my dear girl, but I will tell you that you would not survive another bout of captivity. Not in your present condition. Forgive me for being concerned for _your_ well-being."

"It's not your concern that pissed me off!" Emily countered. "I'm mad because of how you went about it, not because you were worried! You made me feel like a child or a prisoner. So what if I didn't tell anybody where I went? All of you were asleep. What was I supposed to do? Wake you up to tell you that I needed to pee? Like a child needing an escort to the bathroom? I don't think so! And I had a hard enough time getting out of camp as it was. Should I have taken the extra steps and time to find Gandalf and risked wetting myself in the process?"

A portion of Boromir's mind admitted that she did have a valid point. It had only been a trip to the privy, not an excursion into Fangorn Forest. He could understand why she would want privacy for such a thing but the fact of the matter remained that he could not very well tell her that at the moment. He, too, knew that the first few interactions set the tone for all future interactions between people and he did not intend to spend the rest of his life giving into her at the first sign of temper so instead of offering her an apology for his actions, he simply looked at her incredulously.

The two of them stood like that for another minute or so, Emily glaring angrily at Boromir and him returning her glare with unflinching stubbornness, neither willing to concede their positions, before Aragorn stepped in.

"Boromir, I think it would be best if you assist Gimli with breakfast," the Man said in a tone that brooked no argument. Boromir nodded curtly and shot one final, scathing glance at Emily before he stalked off with Gimli following on his heels. The second his back was turned, Emily seemed to sink in on herself, her mask of anger and determination crumbling to reveal the anguish she was actually feeling and her breath beginning to sound more like sobs than breaths. Aragorn closed the space between them in two strides and lifted her into his arms before heading towards where Legolas had set out the supplies to rebandage her wounds. He felt pity well within him for her as she quivered in pain in his arms.

"That was an incredibly foolish thing you did, Emily," he chided gently.

"What?" she replied, her voice harsh with pain and unshed tears. "Yelling at Boromir? No. He can't _do_ things like that. I can't deal with being controlled. I've had more than enough of that for one lifetime from the Uruks. I don't need it from him."

"That was foolish as well," Aragorn said softly. "He only behaved the way he did because he cares for you but that was not what I was speaking of. It _was_ foolish of you to leave camp alone. If something dangerous had come upon you . . . you could not even have run away. I am unsure how far you went but your feet are already bleeding again. You are in no condition to leave camp alone."

"How else was I supposed to get out of camp?" she asked quietly, already tired from her exertions that morning. It made her feel pathetic that walking such a short distance and having one little fight had worn her out, but it was the truth of the matter.

"You could have asked one of us to take you," Aragorn replied. "Any of us would have done it gladly."

"So I should have asked one of you to carry me out of camp and give me some space so that I could pee and then called you back to bring me _back_ to camp?" she asked incredulously.

"Why not?" he replied with a small laugh. "It would most likely have taken less time to accomplish than it took you to limp out of camp and would have been far less painful for you."

"And more embarrassing," she replied with a wry smile. He did not reply, but there was a smile on his face as he gently passed her to Legolas.

"Sometimes a bit of embarrassment is necessary," Legolas replied joining the conversation. "It is healthy for our pride to suffer the occasional blow. Keeps us from becoming vain."

"If it's all the same to you I would like to avoid that _particular_ blow to my pride," Emily replied with a wry smile. "I'll just keep limping out of camp on my own, thank you very much."

"If that is what you believe is best," Aragorn replied simply before his tone changed to a more commanding one. "Now, lift your arms over your head if you are able, Emily."

"Why?" she asked in shock wondering why he wanted her to do it and knowing that even if she _could_, it was going to hurt.

"I need to remove your shirt to tend to your wounds and it needs to come off over your head," Aragorn explained. "Now lift your arms, please." At his explanation she felt the blood drain from her face. He wanted to remove her _shirt_? What happened to this being the era of the prudes? Boromir was freaked out by the _idea_ of oral sex and Aragorn wanted to get her naked? She couldn't make it make sense.

"You want to do _what_ now!?" she asked once she was able.

"To remove your shirt," Aragorn replied slowly. He understood why she was so upset by the prospect but that did not change the fact that it was a necessary thing if she was to survive her injuries. Boromir had spoken the truth when he said that she would not survive another bout of captivity and without proper treatment it was possible that she would not survive her previous one. Orcs were notoriously unclean—and he doubted that Uruks were any cleaner—and infection from an Orc wound was nearly a given. She would not survive an infection.

"But . . . why?" she asked in a small confused voice.

"Emily," Legolas said softly, "we have to tend to your wounds once more. That is the only way to be sure that they will not become infected. To tend to them, we must remove your shirt. I swear to you that we will be discrete. We will preserve your modesty to the best of our abilities. Just as we did yesterday." For the first time, Emily actually looked at what she was wearing and realized that it was not what she had been wearing when she was captured by the Uruks—though she supposed that it made sense as they _had_ cut her shirt from her.

"You . . . both of you saw me naked yesterday?" she breathed. She was numb at the idea that two members of the fellowship had seen her naked and . . . her face flushed a brilliant crimson as she realized that she had been naked in front of Boromir and Gimli as well. She had been naked _and_ unconscious in front of a group of men! Even _her_ sensibilities were shocked by the idea.

"Nothing untoward happened, I swear it to you," Legolas said seeing her shock and attempting to placate her. "I promise you, no one was ogling you. Boromir and Gimli saw nothing and I assure you that Aragorn and I treated you with the upmost respect and covered you as soon as we were able."

"So . . . the two of you saw me naked?" she repeated in a dead voice. A part of her mind put forward that it did make sense, how else were they to treat her injuries? But the vast majority of her mind had shut off at the revelation, unable to process the fact that she had lost the last shred of dignity she had once possessed.

"We did," Aragorn said simply. "However it was simply in a healing capacity and I am afraid that we must subject you to that indignity once more. I understand that this is difficult for you but would you rather endure this or face death. Those are your choices, Emily. You can either allow me to tend your wounds or you can die. Choose."

"Well, when you put it that way," Emily sighed before raising her arms with a grimace.

"A wise decision," Aragorn said with a laugh before he gently guided her shirt over her head and handed it to Legolas before beginning to unwind the bandages from around her torso. As soon as the bandages were unwrapped from her breasts, Legolas pressed the shirt across them to cover her nakedness before allowing her to lean against him once more.

"Do you see?" he asked lightly. "The upmost respect for your modesty." She gave a small laugh at his joke before she let out a hiss as the bandages pulled where they had been stuck to her skin with dried blood. Aragorn said nothing but merely continued in his unwrapping. Just as the last bandage came free, Gandalf joined them carrying a pot filled with pleasant smelling water. He sighed as he saw the extent of her injuries a small smile forming on his face at the thought of how much trouble she must have caused the Uruks to cause such cruelty.

"I see that your sharp tongue is not reserved only for those that are courting you," Gandalf said with a small laugh.

"I'm glad _you're _amused but this," Emily muttered darkly. "Because I can assure you that—" her words were cut off in a hiss of pain as Aragorn began wiping away the dried blood from the wounds. Rather than stop, he placed a hand on her shoulder to hold her in place and continued his cleaning until the cloth he was using needed to be rinsed.

"I am sorry, Emily," he whispered as he washed out the cloth and prepared to begin again. "This will be easier for both of us if it is done quickly." Even though he knew it to be true, her shallow pained breaths made his heart ache. He disliked hurting her, even if it was to preserve her life. Gandalf had moved so that he was in her line of sight and was speaking to her again in an attempt to distract her from the pain.

"Emily," he said waiting until she looked at him before he continued, "I assure you that I take no amusement in your suffering. I wish that this had not happened to you but as I warned you long ago, there are consequences for changing fate's plan. I fear that this is merely a consequence for your actions."

"Or maybe it's a con . . . consequence for _your_ med . . . meddling in the will . . . the will of the Valar," she ground out through teeth that were gritted against the pain Aragorn was inflicting on her. "Though why _I_ had to be . . . be the one to . . . _God_ that hurts! Why I'm the one enduring it I don't know!" Legolas and Aragorn exchanged looks over her should at her words. Had she truly just accused Gandalf of meddling? Did she _have_ a death-wish?

"My dear," Gandalf said in a level voice, thought there was an undercurrent of what could either be amusement or anger, "I do not know who in this wide world you have been talking with but I do not _meddle_. I merely interfere when situations arise that require my presence. I see how that could be confused with meddling but I am no mere meddler."

"That's not what the Lady Galadriel said," Emily countered wishing that she sounded more like an adult and less like a petulant child taunting a sibling. "She believed that in silencing me you meddled in the will of the Valar."

Aragorn sighed at her words. The girl _did_ have a death wish. There was no other explanation for her actions, first with the Uruks and now in baiting Gandalf. He almost dropped the cloth into the bowl and walked away. What was the point in attempting to preserve her life if she was only going to gamble it so recklessly? He glanced up in shock as Gandalf began to laugh. It started as a quiet chuckle but soon became a true laugh.

"She said that, did she?" Gandalf asked once he was able. "She told you that I had meddled?"

"Not in as many words, no," Emily admitted sheepishly as she realized for the first time just what she had said to the wizard. Only now did she realize just how poorly that could have gone. "She said that the Valar had sent me here for a reason and that had they wanted me silenced they would have either taken or blocked my memories themselves and that she felt you had committed a "grave error" in muting me."

"She told me much the same during the time I was in Lothlórien," Gandalf replied. "Lectured me about you at length. To tell you the truth, I was more than glad to leave the Golden Wood on this visit. In fact, that was what I wished to discuss with you, Emily. I had intended to have this conversation in private but it seems that you are never alone for long. I will give you a choice. You have seen the consequences that meddling in fate can have, or the beginnings of them as we do not yet know just how far-reaching the ripples of this change will be, but if you wish it, I will lift the binding. You will then be free to divulge whatever information you see fit."

"Before you choose," he said holding up a hand for silence as he saw her mouth open, "think carefully on your decision. Any information you give may change the course of history. If I lift the spell, the pressure to divulge information will be greater. As the situation now sits, you have a legitimate excuse to say nothing—you are unable to say it and with your broken hands you cannot write it. You are relieved of the heavy burden. Do you truly wish to change it?"

"I don't see where it can be any worse than knowing what's going to happen and just having to sit back and watch it happen," Emily said.

"Think carefully, Emily," Gandalf repeated. "Not all of the changes that you may make will be for the good of the Free Peoples. There are times when people _must_ die for the good of many. Much like my death. Had you prevented it, I would still be Gandalf the Grey. My death was necessary. Do you truly wish to have such responsibility fostered on you?"

"I know how this ends, remember?" she said with a wry smile. "I know which deaths are actually required. Which events are actually important. I won't mess with those. I can do this, Gandalf."

"As you wish," he replied worried that her pride would be their ruin. "If that is your decision. Emily, I release you from your promise to me not to tell another of their fate. You may say what you wish to whomever you wish. You are no longer bound to our agreement." With a sad smile, Gandalf walked away once more to return to assist Gimli and Boromir with breakfast.

"That's it?" Emily asked. "All it took was him saying that I am released from my promise?" She had to admit that it felt rather anti-climatic to her. There had been no magic that she had seen. She hadn't even felt anything. _I didn't feel anything the first time either,_ she thought with a wry smile at her own misconceptions of magic.

"You should feel blessed," Legolas said incredulously. "Mithrandir does not often reverse his decisions nor tolerate being spoken to in such a way." Emily was unable to respond because at that moment Aragorn began cleaning a particularly deep and painful wound and it was everything she could do not to scream. She couldn't stop the whimper that rose up her throat. No one said any more after that. They simply focused on their tasks to expedite the process as much as possible.

**ooOO88OOoo**

**As always, thank you to all of you that have favorited or added this one to your alerts.**

**And an extra special thank you to those of you that reviewed!**

**Sparky: That seems to be the consensus and I am very glad that you happened upon it and are enjoying it! And thank you for the fond wishes for my studies :) I will try to keep updates fairly regular :)**

**Sandy-wmd Most people seem to agree with you:) And thank you! I'm afraid that I am going to need it :(**

**KrystalSky: Well, the vote actually went the other way :( But look at it this way, you'll have more consistent updates :)**

**Nurseratchet: He is! He's actually a rather noble character if you read the book. And he wouldn't be more a woman hater than any other man at that time . . . grouchy . . .that I can see :) And it looks like the vote went the other way but it may eventually turn into uploading as soon as I get them done :(**

**Angel Bells****: Hm . . .never heard of the Shelufians :) I always do enjoy learning about different religions though :) And I'm glad that you loved it! And I hope so too . . . and the spread out method seems to be the consensus :)**

**Kilataia: Thank you! And everyone needs a good surrogate family occasionally :) And that seems to be the consensus on updates! and thank you so much! I fear I will need all the luck I can get!**

**Madamezou: That's what I love to hear! I just put that in so that people know that I also want to know what they didn't like :) And I am glad that you love(d) the protector mode! and I'm glad that I could bring a bit of depth and rounding to a so often Sue-d character :) And also glad that I could help you come to like him. And I find that I am quite enjoying writing their courting and am glad that you are enjoying it as well. I agree with you too many authors forget that there is a war. and yeah . . . I've read quite a few (both in this fandom and others) where authors are disturbingly unaware of the kind of all encompassing pain they are putting people through and having them just bounce back from . . .(and how many gut wounds miraculously heal without complications . . . but that's another story) and don't even get me started on the magic!cock trope that floats around fanfiction . . . sex does not cure everything! anyway . . . soapbox over . . . and thank you! I occasionally worry that I go overboard (even though just like with the Warg blood I actually am downplaying it a bit) and it looks like weekly updates are the majority vote :) And thank you, I fear that I will need all the luck I can get :(**

**UntilNeverDawns: Thank you! I'm glad that you loved it and just hang onto your seat . .. it may get a bit bumpy :)**

**Padme40000: Thank you! I'm glad that you enjoyed their little chat :) And it's all good :) And that seems to be the consensus so weekly-ish updates it is!**

**19seventythree: I'm glad that you enjoyed it! And it should. Honor is very important and he is not going to handle the information well. And looks like I'm spreading it out :) It's also good for you because it is a more regular flow for longer :)**

**LOTRfan: That seems to be the vote of the people :) I hope that you enjoyed the new chapter :)**

**Lira-leigh54: I'm glad that you liked it! Poor dear is nearly unintelligible sometimes. And they can. They are still themselves and snippiness does not go away just because sexual attraction blooms :) And I'm glad that you liked both Boromir's comfort and Legolas' warning. I thought that it was high time someone said something :) And . . . i can tell you that it is not going to be all that pretty (yes, It's written) and evenly spaced seems to be the choice :)**

**Well, that's all for now so please leave me a review if you have time and/or feel so inclined. I would LOVE to know what you thought of it (especiallyif there was something that you hated)**

**Stickdonkeys**


	29. Bets, Threats, Arguments, and Apologies

Gimli and Gandalf sat beside the fire as Gandalf boiled a pot of water to tend to Emily when she returned from wherever she had gone. While Boromir paced anxiously waiting for her to return.

"Calm yourself, Boromir," Gimli said with a laugh. "She will return." The Man shot a glare at the Dwarf but said nothing and continued his pacing. Just then, Emily reemerged from the grasses and Boromir abruptly turned and made his way towards her.

"A pouch of gold says that she cows him into submission," Gimli said in a whisper to the wizard as he watched Boromir near her.

"I will take your gold, Gimli," Gandalf replied. "She will never manage it. He is quite stubborn for a Man. She will submit in the end."

"You do not know her at all if you believe that, Gandalf," Gimli replied holding his hand out triumphantly when Emily's words were met with embarrassed silence from Boromir but Gandalf merely shook his head and nodded toward them expectantly just as Boromir exploded. Now it was Gandalf who was looking at Gimli with triumph in his eyes.

"She is not beaten yet," Gimli replied just as Emily returned his anger with more of her own. "She should have been transformed into a dwarf rather than an elf; she is one of the most tenacious things I have ever seen in my life."

"Take care, Gimli," Gandalf said with a laugh. "Else wise people may get the impression that you are fond of her."

"What if I am?" Gimli asked simply. "What harm is there in it?"

"None," Gandalf replied with a smile. "I just never believed that I would live to see the day that Gimli, Glóin's son, would be fond of not one but three Elves. It looks as though we will both be keeping our gold this time, Master Dwarf," Gandalf said with a wry smile as Aragorn broke up Emily and Boromir's stalemate and Boromir began stalking towards them with anger burning in his grey eyes.

"Their battle is not over yet," Gimli replied sagely. "One of us may yet come out of this the richer." Gandalf gave no reply save a small laugh as he turned back to the pot of herbs beginning to steam over the fire.

"Aragorn asked me to assist you," Boromir said shortly, sitting next to Gimli and looking at the Dwarf expectantly.

"I have already completed the preparations," Gimli replied with a smile for the enraged Man. "We only have to wait for Gandalf to be finished with the fire and we can begin cooking." Boromir nodded and sat next to the dwarf. Though the man tried to remain still and appear calm, it was clear that he was not. His fingers moved with the need to find something to occupy themselves with and he continually shot furtive glances in Emily's direction, even though she was blocked from his sight. Occasionally heaving a deep sigh and shaking his head.

Gimli watched in silence as Boromir stewed. As soon as Gandalf left, Gimli moved the pot to the fire and began waiting for it to boil to begin adding ingredients to the water. Boromir sighed again and Gimli glanced at him with a wry smile on his face. If he didn't know better, he would have thought that the Man wanted to talk about it but did not want to be the one to bring it up.

"Is something bothering you, Boromir?" the dwarf asked suddenly. He almost laughed at the incredulity in Boromir's eyes when looked at him. "Perhaps that was a foolish question," Gimli said with a laugh. "I suppose what I meant to ask was: do you wish to talk about what is bothering you?"

"I—" Boromir cut himself off with a flinch as a cry from Emily rent the air. "_Why_ does she _insist_ on doing such _foolish_ things!?" Boromir demanded suddenly.

"Which ones?" Gimli asked with a fond laugh. "That lass does many things that seem imprudent but almost always seem to work out for her."

"That is my point!" Boromir exclaimed gesturing wildly. "She is _always_ doing foolish things that put her in jeopardy! She does not seem to think things through to the end! And I would disagree with you that they always work out for her. They do not."

"I can only think of one that did not," Gimli countered. "And she might even say that it did." Boromir made an indignant noise but Gimli merely raised a hand and spoke over him. "I understand that you count it as a failure because she suffers for her choices _but_ think of it from her perspective. Had she not have done it, you would be dead. She _loves_ you, Boromir. Can you tell me that you would be unwilling to endure pain if it ensured her survival?"

"I would give my life if it would protect hers," Boromir replied coolly. "However, that is an entirely different matter."

"Why?" Gimli demanded. "Because she is a woman? She is not simply a woman, Boromir. At least, not the kind of woman that you are used to. Have you spoken to her about her time?"

"I have not," Boromir replied. "It . . . it pains her to speak of it. I . . . I will not cause her undo pain to satisfy my own curiosities. Not when it is not essential."

"I have," Gimli said. "When we were in Lothlórien. She was feeling homesick one day and she wished to speak so I listened. Things are quite different in her time, Boromir. _Women_ are different. Emily is educated. I do not know if she can read our writings here, but in her time she is literate. She says that in her land nearly everyone is. In her time, women _work_ for wages right beside men."

"Then who raises their children?" Boromir asked.

"She said that there are places to take children where they can be watched for the day," Gimli replied. "Or that they go to take lessons and are watched there. She also said something that was difficult for me to understand. She said that in some cases the _father_ of the child stays at home and cares for it while the mother works." She had also told him that in some cases there _was_ no father and that the mother raised the child alone but he did not feel that it was his place to tell Boromir _that_ fact about her world, especially since she had said that in many of those cases the father was still alive. That was something the Man needed to hear from her own lips.

"And does she . . . is this something that she . . . if she and I were to have children . . ." Boromir sounded shocked and his expression was blank as he tried to understand a situation where a mother would voluntarily allow another to raise her children. He wondered if Emily would be willing to raise their children or if she would wish for another to do the task for her.

"That you will need to ask her," Gimli replied. "I did not question her on her child-rearing intentions. It was not my place. I am not courting her. However, I do believe that _you_ need to ask her. I . . . I would not have you unpleasantly surprised." Boromir looked at the Dwarf in shock. He had not been aware that Gimli was quite so fond of him as to attempt to protect him from such a surprise.

"Do not misunderstand what I am about to say," Gimli continued. "I do not mean to offend you. I know that you care for her deeply and . . . do not do that to her. I know that it will not be a pleasant conversation but before you attempt to advance this courting in _any_ way the two of you need to have a _long_ conversation about your expectations. I do not know how these things are done by the race of Men, but among my own people this would have been an improperly quick declaration of intent already.

"I do not say this to pass judgment on you. I have heard more than one of my kin bemoan the length of a standard dwarvish courtship and do not begrudge you the accelerated rate. All I am saying is . . . do not cause her unnecessary pain. If there is something that the two of you cannot come to an agreement on, it would be better to know this before things become too entangled to end."

Boromir heard the hidden meaning in Gimli's words and knew that what the Dwarf _actually_ meant was: 'decide if this will work before you consummate this and force her into a position where she _must_ marry you.' He almost smiled at the fact that in two days he had received two lectures on the need to treat Emily with care.

"I do not intend to cause her pain of any kind, Gimli," Boromir replied sadly clenching his fists as she cried out once more. "I would spare her any pain in this world if only I could. That was why I was so upset with her earlier. I . . . you seem to know her well; why does she refuse my aid? Does she truly think so little of me that she believes me to be incapable of assisting her or defending her? Why did she . . ." he gestured in the direction she had left camp as if searching for the right words to describe just what she had done.

"Attempt to preserve what little of her dignity remains?" Gimli supplied. "Tell me, what would you have done in her position? Would you have asked one of us to assist you with _that?_ Or better still, would you have asked _her_?" Boromir's blush was answer enough. He would not have asked her assistance.

"You have chosen a willful mate, lad," Gimli said with a smile as he added the ingredients to the now boiling water. "Keep that in mind when she infuriates you. She has never hidden her willfulness and I would wager that you knew what you were signing up for. I just hope that you can endure the path you have chosen. For both of your sakes."

"What of Emily?" Boromir demanded. "I have never hidden anything from her either. Am I to be the only one who makes concessions? I have seen many relationships turn sour due to such an arrangement. I refuse to be part of one if I can avoid it."

"I intend to have words with her as well," Gimli replied. "You are correct when you say that she is far too reckless for her own good. As one of her combat instructors, it is my responsibility to lecture her on her foolish recklessness. Again, though, your relationship dynamic is between the two of you and the two of you will have to negotiate that amongst yourselves. Do you wish for me to tell her that she is not to hurt you any more than you are to hurt her? I can and I will."

"No," Boromir replied shaking his head emphatically. "That is quite alright." Gimli smirked in reply and stirred the pot on the fire. He was content in the knowledge that he had tempered Boromir's anger somewhat. It was only moments later that they were rejoined by Gandalf who sat himself next to Gimli with a knowing smile on his face.

"Boromir," the wizard said suddenly. "I believe that Gimli and I can handle breakfast. Your strength would be better utilized if you would begin to ready the horses. We must set out as soon as we are able. I fear we have delayed overlong as it is." Boromir nodded once more, glad to have something to do to occupy his hands while his mind worked through everything that had already happened that morning. As soon as he was out of earshot, Gandalf turned to Gimli.

"I saw that," the wizard said simply. Gimli merely stared at him levelly.

"Saw what?" the Dwarf replied. "All that happened is that Boromir and I discussed his frustrations with Emily. Nothing more."

"Did anything in this discussion make it more likely that you will win our wager, Master Dwarf?" Gandalf asked with a small laugh.

"Perhaps," Gimli replied with a shrug. "I simply attempted to get him to see her side of the argument, which I have no doubt Aragorn and Legolas have done for her. I was merely attempting to even the odds." Gandalf said nothing in reply but he knew that evening the odds on the bet had not been the only motivation for the Dwarf. He had also done it for the good of both Emily and Boromir. Even if his actions enhanced his chances of victory, Gandalf could not fault him for it. It was only gold that was at stake on their end of things, after all. Over his long years, Gandalf had long since learned that love—when it truly bloomed—was far more precious than even _mithril_.

**ooOO88OOoo**

Eventually everything was completed: Emily was rebandaged, breakfast was eaten—Legolas aiding Emily with hers as Boromir was still not speaking to her despite his anger having faded slightly after his chat with Gimli—and all that was left was to work out riding arrangements once more. There was truly only one point of contention in the arrangements: Emily. Legolas and Gimli were still intending to share a horse as the horse that Legolas had been lent was a bit narrower in width than the others and therefore easier for the Dwarf to ride. That left only Aragorn, Boromir and Gandalf as potential riding mates.

Gandalf had quickly removed himself from consideration by citing the fact that Shadofax was already a point of contention between himself and the people of the Mark. It would not aid their political mission for him to be seen allowing an elleth to ride one of the Meras. Boromir readily accepted this argument, knowing just how protective the people of Rohan were of their horses and returned to pleading his case as to why Emily should not ride with him.

"She cannot ride with me, Aragorn," he argued. "It was improper yesterday to allow it to happen but I could see your logic. Now, however, there is nothing to prohibit her from riding with you. You will not be dismounting to search for hobbit-sign. How will it look if we ride into Edoras with her draped across me? Her honor will be irreparably tarnished."

"He was not so worried about appearances last night, was he lass?" Gimli muttered to Emily as she leaned against the packs beside him and watched the argument with some measure of amusement.

"Not at all," Emily replied quietly. "Not that I'm complaining, but _I_ wasn't the one to initiate cuddling last night. He's just being a brat because he's mad at me."

"That _was_ foolish of you this morning," Gimli replied sounding all the world like a father scolding a child. Unlike when Boromir had done it, Gimli's paternal lecturing amused rather than agitated her.

"Not you too!" She sighed with a small laugh. "I've already gotten this lecture more than once, Gimli!"

"Not from me," he countered. "And I have more lectures than that for you as well, lass. You have been beyond foolish lately and—"

"Can we please not do this now?" Emily asked looking at him with pleading brown eyes. "I'm not sure that I can sit through another lecture today. Please?"

"It can wait," Gimli agreed shaking his head indulgently at the brilliant smile she flashed him in response before going for a sterner tone and leveling a glare at her. "Just bear in mind that you _will_ be hearing it eventually." Emily was about to reply when Legolas' voice pierced through her conversation with Gimli and she felt her blood begin to boil at what he said.

"—is neither her intended nor her kin," Legolas was saying. "It will look far worse for him to ride with her than for you to assist her. I know that the idea of riding with her is distasteful for you however—"

"I can solve this problem for you," Emily cut in abruptly, hurt and anger warring for dominance as she realized that they only thought of her as a burden that one of them would have to bear. "Leave me here. If it is _such_ an imposition for one of you to ride with me then leave me here. I'm sure that the next pack of Uruks to come by would be more than happy to give me a lift to Isenguard. I don't have to come with you. Not if you don't want me to."

"Emily," Boromir said glaring at her, his anger with her flaring to life once more that she would even suggest that they would or could abandon her. "You are behaving childishly. It is not that you are a burden we are merely concerned for—"

"My honor," she replied sarcastically. "I'm aware. I've heard _more_ than enough about my honor to last me a lifetime. Tell me this, is there any _one_ of you that I could ride with that there is _no_ way that _someone_ could take the wrong way?"

"No," Boromir replied honestly. "No matter which of us you ride with it could be misconstrued."

"Then what's the problem?" Emily demanded exasperatedly. "_We_ all know the truth. If anyone says anything, any one of us can straighten it out. I thought you said that chaperoned contact was acceptable. No matter who they think I am with there are no fewer than four chaperones. I don't see a problem. Unless you are just using it as an excuse to avoid me. In which case I am more than happy to ride with Aragorn since I am still a bit pissed at you for your little stunt earlier."

"I am no happier with you at the moment, Emily," Boromir replied acidicly, "however I would not use your honor as an excuse to avoid you. Not when we are so well chaperoned, as you have said. I worry only for your honor and what rumors may spread."

"Then it's settled," Gandalf said simply. "You are both agreed. Emily and Boromir will ride together under the supervision of Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli and myself. Few courting couples can claim such diverse chaperones." They both looked at him in shock. Neither of them were aware that they had agreed to anything. Boromir recovered first with a shrug and smirked triumphantly as Emily stuttered at the white wizard.

"But . . . I . . . that's . . ." Emily tried to say. She didn't _want_ to ride with Boromir. Not with him being such an ass! She didn't want to be stuck on a horse with him all day and forced to be pressed against him when there was nothing that they could do to settle the hormones that such proximity was bound to stir.

"Is there a problem, Emily?" Gandalf asked with what she would have almost described as a smirk if she hadn't known better. "Do you have an objection to riding with Boromir?" She didn't miss the way that the entire fellowship looked at her eagerly for her answer, or the way that Boromir's eyebrow raised as he smirked superiorly at her having been caught in her own logic.

"I . . . of course not . . . it's just that—" Emily began, foundering as she searched for an excuse that would not mortify her.

"Wonderful!" Gandalf cried cutting her off. "In that case, I suggest that we mount up. There are many leagues to cover before nightfall." With that, the final preparations to move out were made. Once everything was secured to the saddles or to their packs, Aragorn moved towards Emily. Her eyes widened as she realized what he had planned.

"There's no need for that," she gasped out as he bent to lift her like a child. "I can—"

"No you cannot," Aragorn replied simply. "You need to learn your limitations, Emily. You cannot climb into the saddle of a horse in your condition on your own. Allow me to assist you. You will only delay your healing if you continue to engage in such folly."

"I'm sorry," Emily whispered, unable to meet his eyes are she realized just how stupid she was being. Leaving camp on her own to pee was one thing but this . . . he was right. There was no way that she could get into a saddle on her own. She wasn't even sure that she could get into the saddle of a horse on her own if she _wasn't_ injured. She'd never been on one before.

He said nothing but made a small sound of acceptance in his throat before lifting her into his arms and passing her to Boromir. As he settled her into the saddle in front of him, she felt confusion wash over her. She may never have been on a horse before but she had _seen_ people ride horses and, unless _they_ had all been doing it wrong, she was facing the wrong direction entirely.

"Um, Boromir," she said quietly. "I hate to criticize you but . . . is this how I'm supposed to be sitting on a horse. I've never ridden one before but . . . this doesn't seem quite right."

"Traditionally, no," he replied, a hint of a laugh in his voice as he ran his arms under hers and grasped the reins. "Even as a passenger this is a bit unconventional. However, with your injuries this will be the most comfortable way for you. I would put you behind me as you are awake but with your hands as they are you would have no means of remaining there and I fear that the pressure of riding facing forwards before me would be unbearable. As awkward as this position is, it is for the best." For the first time she realized what all the fuss had been about over who she rode with. Her current position—sitting backwards on a horse in between Boromir's arms—_was_ rather _suggestive._ But she only had a moment to be concerned about it before he nudged the horse into motion.

She stiffened with a hiss as the gait of the horse jarred her injuries painfully. Each step of the horse sent a painful ripple through her body and she ground her teeth together as she tried to keep from crying out, her forehead involuntarily burying itself in his shoulder.

"Try to relax," Boromir whispered in her ear. "It will make the ride easier. It will also be smoother once we get to a gallop." She just barely bit back her retort that she would gladly change positions with him if he thought that he could do better in hers and then it was only the compassion that she saw in his grey eyes that allowed her to do so. So, instead of snapping at him, she concentrated on continuing to breathe.

She soon discovered that he was right. She supposed that the running pace at which the horse was traveling that was so smooth was called a gallop. Regardless of what it was called, once they reached it the travel was much easier on her and she found her eyes beginning to drift shut. With a frustrated sigh she forced them open. She wasn't going to sleep. Not so soon after getting up, no matter how much her body craved it. She had slept enough. Despite her resistance to sleep, she soon found her head lulling on his shoulder yet again and she forced it back upright with a jerk. She froze as she felt him chuckle, their proximity allowing her to feel it in her chest more than she heard it over the rushing wind.

"Sleep, Emily," he leaned down slightly to yell into her ear. "It will make the journey shorter. Despite how you seek to infuriate me at every turn I will not allow you to fall from the horse."

"I don't do it on purpose," she countered. "It's not as if I make my decisions by asking myself 'Hm, now which of these things is going to piss Boromir off the most?'. Don't flatter yourself. Infuriating you is just a byproduct."

"I do not know whether that is better or worse," he responded sardonically. "I almost would prefer it if you did chose your actions with the goal of irritating me. If that were the case it would be a far easier habit for you to break."

"Who says I want to break it?" she snapped. "Maybe it's you that should loosen up a bit! I swear, you may be the most arrogant and over-protective man I have ever met in my entire life!"

"Thank you," he replied with a smirk. "I know for a fact that I am much more lenient than most so I will take your last statement to mean that I am the first man to care for you properly and that is a position that I am most honored to take."

"Most lenient?!" Emily scoffed. "I have _never_ heard of a man getting pissed at a woman for leaving on her own to _pee_. And there are some real whack jobs out there."

"That was not why I was upset with you this morning, Emily," Boromir replied sadly. "It was . . . I was worried for your safety. We were still far too close to the eves of Fangorn Forest. The Riders are diligent and deadly but there is always the possibility that an Uruk or two managed to survive their purge. You could not fend off a kitten in your current state let alone an Uruk determined to bring _someone_ back to his master in hopes of saving his own skin." Emily blinked in surprise. She hadn't thought of it that way. In her mind, the Riders had come and they had killed all the Uruks. End of story. It had never occurred to her that some of them may have survived. Suddenly his fear and anger made more sense to her. Even though he had alluded to it earlier, it was only now that he spelled it out for her that she truly understood his motivation; it wasn't that she had left camp without checking in with him, it was that she had left herself vulnerable to attack.

"I'm sorry," she said, wishing that she could see his face to better gage his reaction. "I didn't mean to worry you. I just . . . I didn't think about that. I just . . . I _hate _being so helpless. I hate that I have to rely on all of you to help me with things I should be able to do myself. It's . . . demeaning. I . . . I don't know."

"I need to apologize to you as well," Boromir replied. "I should not had allowed my fear for you to transmit into rage. For this I apologize. As to your current helplessness, enjoy it while you can." His smirk deepened at the indignant sound that came from her throat before he spoke over her protest, the fondness he felt for her clear in his tone.

"Yes, Emily my dear, enjoy it while you can," he continued. "I can assure you that once your hands heal you will be reduced to feeding yourself rather than being fed by others like a queen. And you will be required to dress yourself and braid your own hair. To think, you will be forced to _walk_ from place to place again! For shame!" He paused a moment to laugh at her indignant scoff before he continued, forcing his tone to remain light despite the way his heart soared at the prospect of providing Emily with all that he was about to speak of. "Hopefully you do not become too used to such treatment," he continued, "else wise, from what you and the others have told me of your world, you will have no choice but to become my wife. Noble women here are gifted with such privileges as maidservants to arrange their hair and gowns. As my wife you would be entitled to such things."

At her silence, he backpedaled slightly worried that he had overstepped a boundary of his own by discussing what her life would be like married to him before he had even proposed marriage. "However," he said, remembering how she had just been lamenting the loss of her autonomy, "you will still be required to do some things for yourself. Such as walk, eat and," he paused to clear his throat as a fiery blush covered his face, "visit the privy. None will interfere with that. And if you wish to bathe yourself, once you are healed, you would be free to send them on their way once your bath had been drawn. Or I suppose you could draw it yourself if you wished. I have never seen it done however—"

His words cut off abruptly as Emily turned and brazenly placed a kiss on the side of his neck. He was shocked once again by her shamelessness. It wasn't that such a kiss was unacceptable per se, but merely that it was very forward of her to initiate at so early a stage and with no promises from him. His cheek would have been far more appropriate, or at least that was what he thought as he felt himself begin to stir at the mere memory of the feeling of her lips on his neck.

"You're kinda cute when you're flustered," Emily whispered contentedly as she shifted her cheek on his shoulder in an attempt to find a comfortable position before her breathing evened out and he felt her go limp against him, the only sign that she still lived her warm breath ghosting over the skin her lips had caressed only moments before. Boromir shifted a bit in the saddle trying to ease the discomfort in his breaches that her nearness and boldness caused and prayed to whoever would listen that Emily remained asleep long enough that the problem resolved itself without her ever knowing.

**ooOO88OOoo**

**Words cannot express just how sorry I am about the delay on this one... I fail :( Hopefully you enjoyed it at any rate. This should be the last of the slowish ones before we hop right back into the action of the War of the Ring.**

**And now review replies:**

**michelle:**** Thank you! And I kinda wanted to do that but then figured that a pig-headed standoff better suited these two :) And I am glad that you are liking her character :) And she will. It will come up and everything will get laid out in the open ... I would suggest enjoying the calm before the storm if I was you. And yep. All kinds of interesting is about to happen. She may regret her choice in the end. And Ha! that would require some planning on my part. I don't even know how this is going to end. I have a few plot points (and a couple of full chapters for down the road) but no complete idea.**

**UntilNeverDawns:**** thank you! Sorry it took so long :(**

**Angel Bells:**** I can see that :) And I sincerely hope so too! but she is a bit of an idiot :/**

**Krystal Sky: ****Thank you! I was going for realism :)**

**FranzF:**** Thank you! I am glad that you are enjoying my writing so much! And I was going for realism and am very glad that you believe I accomplished it :) And it was actually referring to Gandalf reversing the spell but there were a few errors in this one :) And no, that fight was by no means an error. They needed it. And it means exactly what you believe it does :) they managed to make up in this one, let's see if we can get them to make out before long, shall we? And I am so sorry that it wasn't very soon (or soon at all) but I do hope it was worth the wait.**

**Kilataia:**** I'm glad that you loved it! I have no desire to be in her shoes either. She's about to learn that meddling is not always the best idea. Poor dear has no idea what she's signed on for :(**

**Vault108: ****That she did. Just wait until you see what she does with it first. She's about to make a VERY big and very critical change. She is beyond stupid and she's about to know it!**

**Sparky:**** I would agree with that. And neither of them has any idea how to deal with the other one but they'll either have to learn or spontaneously combust. There's not really another option. And trust me, you want her to sit on that bit of info a while longer. That is NOT going to be a fun conversation. And they will in the next chapter. :)**

**19seventythree:**** I agree with you, as did this one, but things will rapidly pick back up to a fever pitch in the next one. I hate exposition chapters as much as the next person but sadly they are occasionally a necessary evil. And I am glad I could make you laugh! Poor dear really was in a bind, wasn't she?**

**CM: ****That they are :) and they will continue to be :) Just hang on for the ride (assuming you made it this far)**

**Padme4000:**** I'm glad that you enjoyed it! And they can't but I will admit that it's been a bit since we had any action. That'll change in the next one. Time to mix up the paces yet again :) And I'm glad that you found it interesting :) I wouldn't have asked for help with that either. (No one would) but he wasn't thinking so much about her asking help with THAT as about her leaving on her own and defenseless. And that was a very risky call on her part and may bite her in the ass (but it's the same call that I probably would have made ... maybe... I would have at least thought about it a bit first) and I'm glad that you liked it! That was where I was worried that it truly dragged. And I answered this in the PM but I will tell you again, thank you so much for the first bit of fan art I have ever received! It really did make my day!**

**Lira-leigh54:**** I'm glad that I can continue to amaze you :) I always worry that I go too far with that. And I meant for it to be a bit amusing. It's kinda difficult to write a serious scene about pee. And I'm glad that you liked that. Emily doesn't seem the type to be cowed by anything, even common sense. And it will cause nothing but turmoil for her. And I am glad that you are still loving their little culture-clashing romance. And of course there will be angsty drama. It's one of the things I am good at :) And thank you so much! I am glad that you think they have all been great!**


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